A Time for Wolves
by HolyKnightsofTheRoundTable
Summary: When his father is named Hand of the King, Brynden Stark's life and destiny changes. As the second son and twin of Robb, Brynden will aid his brother in the War of the Five Kings and defend their kingdom against their enemies. The Blackwolf will rise and become the first Stark of Winterfell to unite the North and the Free Folk against their common foe.
1. Winter is Coming

**Hey guys, I'm back... for now anyways.**

 **I've had this story floating around in my head for awhile now and decided to post it now that I have some free time. Don't expect the other stories on my profile to be updated. I plan on deleting those and focusing just on this one.**

* * *

Bran's shots were off again as he loosed another arrow and missed his target.

He sighed in frustration as his aim was still off while his brothers chuckled with an amused look on their faces. Bran wished that he wasn't the only one training with the bow but Robb, Brynden, and Jon had long since passed their bow training and Rickon was still a babe. He doubted that Rickon would even be able to lift a bow at his age. It also didn't help that his brothers were watching him and and laughing whenever he missed his target. At the moment, Bran wished that he had Brynden's or Theon's skills with a bow to be done with the training. He would rather be training with a sword, as his dream was to become a knight of the Kingsguard someday.

As the third son, Bran knew that he would have to find his own place in the world. Robb would succeed their Father, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Brynden would serve Robb as Master of Moat Cailin. Brynden was the warrior that Bran hoped to surpass someday as he was a skilled swordsman, though still not as good as Jon was. Jon was the better swordsman compared to Robb and Brynden.

Bran stared at the spot where his arrow had struck, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong, then sighed and lowered his bow. There was no way that would ever be able to hit his target. Bran looked over at his brothers as Brynden was chatting with Robb while Jon approached him. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Go on, father's watching," Jon encouraged him, patting him on the shoulder. Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice, and more solemn than their brothers Robb and Brynden. "And your mother," he added as Bran looked over his shoulder, up at the balcony where his parents were watching him. He took some encouragement from this and readied himself for another shot at his target.

Notching his arrow, Bran raised his bow, aimed and loosed his arrow. He sighed in frustration as he once more missed his target. Bran was starting to get tired of the training and just wanted it to end. Notching his arrow again, Bran raised his bow again, aimed and loosed. His brothers laughed as his arrow flew over the target.

"And which one of you was a marksman at seven?" Their father scolded his brothers. "Keep practicing, Bran, go on."

"Keep your aim steady, Bran," Brynden told him. He was big and broad like Robb, but had their father's dark-brown hair, and grey eyes of the Starks of Winterfell. Brynden and Arya were the only ones of Bran's trueborn siblings to take after their lord father.

"Don't think too much about it," Jon added. Jon's grey eyes were darker than Brynden's to where they almost seemed black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb and Brynden, but was dark where Brynden was fair, the only look that Brynden had gotten from their mother.

"Relax your bow arm," Robb said as Bran readied his bow and aimed at his target. Unlike his younger twin brother, Robb had their mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. He was less muscular and agile than Brynden was.

Before he could release his arrow, an arrow that was not from his bow soared in the arrow and struck the target true in the center. Snapping his head back, Bran saw his sister Arya with a bow in hand, who quickly curtsied to them. Annoyed, Bran gave chase, leaving the laughs of his brothers behind him.

* * *

This was not the first time for Brynden Stark to see his lord father deliver the king's justice on a deserter of the Night's Watch. There had been three more before this man this year and Brynden along with his twin brother Robb and bastard brother Jon Snow had gone with their lord father to watch him carry out the king's justice. This time however their younger brother Bran came with them, much to their mother's disapproval. Brynden, Robb, and Jon had been the same age as Bran when they had witnessed their first beheading. Their way was the old way and the Starks of Winterfell held onto the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

As the deserter of the Night's Watch was brought before his lord father, Brynden remembered when he was Bran's age and had once dreamed of becoming a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch like his uncle Benjen, who was the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. He had grown out of that dream as he had gotten older. The Starks of Winterfell had manned the Wall for thousands of years but Brynden had realized that he could do more good at his brother's side than he could at the Wall. A Stark in the north had much more power than a Stark at the Wall.

Someday, Robb would rule as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North after he succeeded their father and Brynden would serve as his bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name along with their brothers Bran and Rickon. Brynden knew it was only a matter of time before their father arranged a match for Robb and Brynden. He doubted that their father planned to betroth them to daughters of a southron house as his father had little interest with making alliances with the south, as their father had rarely left the north, refusing to involve himself with the politics of the south.

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts of the Gift as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. Brynden wondered if his father planned to make him one of those lords and rule one of the holdfasts in his father's name. That plan would not happen anytime soon though for his father planned to wait until spring after the winter had come and gone to lure men north with the promise of land.

Brynden's father sat solemnly on his horse as he spoke with the deserter of the Night's Watch. He had taken off Father's face and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell. Not for the first time, Brynden wished that he had been the first-born son instead of Robb. It shamed him to think of it but Brynden had always dreamed of being the Lord of Winterfell, but he was the second son and cursed himself whenever he thought about taking his brother's birthright. What kind of brother was he to want what would never be his?

Lord Eddard Stark dismounted as the deserter was brought to his knees and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the Valyrian steel sword called Ice. When Brynden had been of Bran's age, he had dreamed that his father would place Ice in his hands and Winterfell would go to Robb. It was no longer a castle that he wanted but the ancestral sword of their house.

His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head and took off the man's head with a single sure stroke as Brynden had seen him done many times before. One day it would be Robb delivering the king's justice when he succeeded their father.

Brynden frowned when he heard Greyjoy laugh and kick the deserter's head away from him. The two of them had never gotten along with one another.

Brynden rode in between his brothers Robb and Jon, well ahead of the main party, with Bran struggling to keep up with them on his pony. "The deserter died bravely," Robb said. He was big and broad like Brynden, but took after their mother in appearance while Brynden took after their lord father. "He had courage, at the least."

"No," Jon Snow said quietly. "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." Jon had their father's face, as he did. The both of them along with Arya were the only ones. Robb, Sansa, Bran, and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with blue eyes and fire in their hair. Yet Brynden was muscular where Jon was slender, strong and agile where his half brother was graceful and quick.

"At least the man had accepted his fate," Brynden said. "That takes courage and bravery."

"He died well, that's all that matters." Robb said. "Race you two to the bridge?"

"Done," Jon said, kicking his horse forward. Brynden and Robb cursed and followed, galloping off down the trail after Jon. Brynden enjoyed the cool breeze that hit his face while Robb laughed and hooted, while Jon was silent and intent. It was moments like these that Brynden loved with just the three of them together and no one else was with them.

For as long as he could remember, Brynden, Robb, and Jon had always been close with one another, much to his mother's disapproval. While his mother had done her best to make Jon feel like an outsider in the family, Brynden had accepted Jon as his brother and he trusted Jon with his life. Jon was his best friend, rival, and constant companion. Whenever Robb was with their lord father as his eldest son and heir, Brynden would be with Jon, sparring with wooden swords. Most of the time though would be just Brynden and Robb.

That had all changed when Theon Greyjoy had come to Winterfell as his father's ward after the Greyjoy's Rebellion. Robb had begun to spend more time with Greyjoy and enjoyed his company. Brynden hated Robb for letting Greyjoy join them in their training at arms. To him, Greyjoy was an outsider and had no right to be a part of their family. He also didn't like how Greyjoy treated Jon, viewing him as the other outsider of the family, and often wondered how Robb could befriend someone like Theon Greyjoy. Unlike his brother, Brynden knew better than to befriend or trust the last living son of Balon Greyjoy. He would never consider Greyjoy his friend or ally.

Their horses soon came to a halt when they reached the bridge, with Jon as the victor. By then they were well ahead of the main party and the three of them decided to wait for the rest of the party to catch up with them. It was then that Robb had spotted something on the riverbank north of the bridge. "Come on," Robb said as he urged Brynden and Jon to follow him.

"What is it?" Brynden asked as they carefully made their way through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground. He noticed that Jon was also curious as to what Robb had spotted.

"A wolf," Brynden could not believe the size of the beast, as they got closer to it and dismounted from their horses. It was a good thing that the beast was dead for Brynden doubted that the three of them would have been able to kill it on their own.

The beast was half-buried in bloodstained snow, and ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur, with the faint smell of corruption clinging to it like a woman's perfume. What surprised Brynden the most about the beast was its size, as it was twice the size of the largest hound in their father's kennel. "Not just any wolf, Robb," Brynden pointed out. "That's a direwolf."

"With pups," Robb added, nodding at the six pups that were searching for milk, making sad little whimpering sounds.

They knelt in the snow as Brynden and Robb picked up one of the pups and cradled it in their arms. Bran would love these creatures. "Jon, go tell Father and Bran what we found."

As he was still mounted on his horse, Jon nodded and immediately turned his horse around before heading off to get their father and Bran. "How do you think that they got here?" Brynden asked Robb while he gently stroked his pup.

"I don't know," Robb replied, looking down at the other pups that were still with their dead mother. As far as they knew, there were no direwolves south of the Wall until now.

"Do you think that Father will let us keep them?" Brynden knew that Bran would be ecstatic when he saw the pups. He wondered how their other siblings would react when they saw the pups.

"I believe that he will if we can convince him." Robb replied while his pup nuzzled blindly against his chest.

Jon soon returned with Father, Bran, and the others behind them. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach them. Greyjoy was laughing and joking when Brynden heard the breath go out of him. "Gods!" he exclaimed, struggling to keep control of his horse as he reached for his sword.

Jory's sword was already out. "Robb, Brynden, get away from it!" he called as his horse reared under him.

If only they knew that the beast was already dead. Brynden chuckled while Robb grinned and looked up from the pups that they were holding. "She can't hurt you," he said. "She's dead, Jory."

"You can put away your blade." Brynden added. He smiled as he watched Bran dismount from his pony and run over to them with a curious look on his face. His brother had always been a curious one, always wanting to follow and join in whatever Brynden, Robb, and Jon were doing. Bran gave a cry of delight when he saw the pups they were holding and moved closer to them.

"Go on," Robb told Bran as he reached out hesitantly while Brynden nodded his head. "You can touch them."

Bran gave the pups a quick nervous stroke, then turned as Jon put a third pup into his arms. "Here you go. There are six of them." Brynden smiled at Bran as he sat down in the snow and hugged the wolf pup to his face. He knew that Bran would fall in love with the wolf pups.

"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen, the master of horse. "I like it not."

"It is a sign," Jory said.

Father frowned. "This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. "Do we know what killed her?"

"There's something in the throat," Robb told him, proud to have found the answer before their father even asked. "There, just under the jaw."

His father knelt and groped under the beast's head with his hand. He gave a yank and held it up for all to see. A foot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood. A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak. Even Brynden could sense their fear and wondered what had gotten them all spooked.

His father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. "I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp," he said. His voice broke the spell.

"Maybe she didn't," Jory said. "I've heard tales . . . maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came."

"Born with the dead," another man put in. "Worse luck."

"No matter," said Hullen. "They be dead soon enough too."

Brynden frowned while Bran gave a wordless cry of dismay.

"The sooner the better," Greyjoy agreed and drew his sword. "Give the beast here, Bran."

"No!" Bran cried out fiercely. "It's mine."

"Put away your sword, Greyjoy," Robb said, with the same commanding sound as their father, like the lord he would someday be, a lord that Brynden would never be. "We will keep these pups."

"You cannot do that, boy," said Harwin, who was Hullen's son.

"We can and we will," Brynden added. These pups belonged to them now.

"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.

"Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation." Their lord father said with a frown.

"No!" Bran cried out again, looking away from their father.

Robb resisted stubbornly. "Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week," he said. "It was a small litter, only two live pups. She'll have milk enough."

"She'll rip them apart when they try to nurse."

"Then we'll care for them ourselves." Brynden added.

"Lord Stark," Jon interrupted, surprising Brynden at how formal he was with their Father. "There are six pups. Four male, two female."

"What of it, Jon?"

"You have six trueborn children," Jon said. "Four sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

Brynden understood what his brother had done while he saw their father's face change, saw the other men exchange glances. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. "You want no pup for yourself, Jon?" he asked softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark," Jon pointed out. "I am no Stark, Father." Jon might not think of himself as a Stark but he was a Stark to Brynden.

No matter how hard his mother had tried to push Jon away from them, Jon would always be his brother even if they did not share the same mother. It was not like Jon had asked to be born a bastard. Brynden often wondered how his mother could be so cruel to Jon when he had done nothing wrong to their family. Family, Duty, Honor, those were the words of his mother's house yet his mother could never accept Jon as a member of their family. Jon was his family despite what his mother thought of him.

Was it because Jon looked more like their lord father than his other brothers? Brynden doubted that, as he was the only trueborn son to take after their lord father.

Their lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself, Father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that."

"Me too!" Bran echoed.

"As will I." Brynden added.

Their lord father weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood? You must train them as well," their father said. "You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Father," Bran said.

"Yes," Brynden and Robb agreed.

"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."

"They won't die," Robb said while Brynden nodded in agreement. "We won't let them die." The wolf pups were their responsibility now.

"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."

Once they were mounted up and on their way, Jon pulled up suddenly when they were halfway across the bridge.

"What is it, Jon?" their lord father asked.

"Can't you hear it?"

Brynden could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, the whimpering of his hungry pup as it nuzzled against his chest, but Jon was listening to something else.

"There," Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling. "He must have crawled away from the others," Jon said.

"Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the seventh pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the deserter who had died that morning. Brynden noted that this pup had its eyes opened while the others were still blind.

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

Jon Snow gave their father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me."

* * *

Winterfell was bustling with activity as the servants got the castle ready for the arrival of the king and the royal court. Ever since they had learned that the king along with the royal family and court would be arriving at Winterfell soon, Lady Stark had been keeping the household busy as they prepared the castle for their guests. It was hard to believe that they would finally get to meet the man his father had always talked about, King Robert Baratheon, the demon of the Trident, and the fiercest warrior of the realm.

Jon was looking forward to the arrival of the royal family, as his uncle Benjen would also be joining them from the Wall to speak with his lord father. He hoped to be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch like his uncle, as a bastard could even rise high in the ranks of the Night's Watch. His brother Brynden once had the same dream as he did to join the Night's Watch, but thought less about joining the order, as he got older. Jon couldn't blame his brother, as he was a Stark of Winterfell while Jon was just a bastard, with nothing to inherit from their lord father.

Lady Stark had never approved of how close he was with Brynden Stark. While Robb had grown close with their lord father's ward, Theon Greyjoy, Brynden had stuck by Jon's side, never trusting the Greyjoy their father had brought home after the rebellion. They would often spar together in the Godswood whenever Robb would train at arms with Theon. Jon had always been the better swordsman than Brynden and while he had enjoyed the challenge of one day beating Jon, Lady Stark had not whenever she had learned that he had bested her son in a spar. Lady Stark had always done her best to make Jon feel not welcomed with her family.

His new companion, Ghost, followed Jon as he made his way to the courtyard where he would no doubt find Robb and Brynden sparring together. While the other pups were dark, grey or black, Ghost was the only one with white fur and he never made a sound. Robb had named his direwolf Grey Wind, because he ran so fast, and Brynden had named his Shadow, because his fur was as dark as the night, and could easily blend into the darkness. Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers Nymeria, while little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which they all agreed was a stupid name for a direwolf. Bran was the only one who had yet to decide on a name for his pup.

As Jon approached the courtyard, he spotted Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, overseeing the spar as Brynden faced off against Robb, Theon, and Hallis Mollen. While Brynden was not as a skilled swordsman as Jon was, he preferred to train against three or four swordsmen at the same time to hone his skills for actual combat. Jon walked over to Bran, who was watching the match as Brynden knocked back Theon while parrying blows from Robb and Hallis.

Bran's unnamed pup sat beside him along with Grey Wind and Shadow. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of his approach until his pup, Grey Wind, and Shadow moved to meet them. The pups greeted each other as Jon sat down beside Bran.

"Who's winning?" Jon asked.

"Brynden, of course," Bran replied, with a smile, as Brynden forced Hallis to yield, knocking him onto his back.

The other spectators, guardsmen in his father's household, hooted and hollered as Hallis left the field, leaving Brynden to face off against Robb and Theon. It seemed that Robb and Theon had finally decided to team up against Brynden and began the offensive, forcing Brynden back as he waited for an opportunity to take one of them out.

"Are you going to join them?" Bran asked him.

"Not today, little brother," Jon replied, smiling at Bran. "Besides, Brynden can take care of himself against those two."

Theon began to stagger and Brynden took advantage of that, focusing his blows on Theon while avoiding Robb's attack. Before Theon could retaliate, Brynden slammed his wooden sword into Theon's stomach then lashed out at his legs, forcing Theon off his feet and onto the ground. As Theon yielded, Brynden leaped to the side as Robb tried to knock him down, and knocked Robb's sword out of his hands before forcing him to surrender, tapping his sword against Robb's neck.

"Dead," Brynden proclaimed with a grin.

The men cheered at Brynden's victory. "Enough!" Ser Rodrik called out. "Well fought."

Grey Wind and Shadow immediately bounded off to their masters as the crowd began to disperse. Brynden bent down to ruffle Shadow's fur, chuckling as he received a few licks to the face. He then looked up and smiled at Jon. "Jon, you should have joined us when you had the chance."

"Next time," Jon promised, shaking his head. His brother just didn't know when to give up. No matter how hard he trained, Jon doubted that Brynden would ever be able to best him with a sword.

"I need a good fuck after that beating you gave me, Stark," Theon groaned, shaking his head.

"Don't expect to get in bed with Ros, Greyjoy, she's mine." Brynden growled, causing Theon to narrow his eyes at him.

"You should never have taken Brynden to that brothel if you wanted to have her all to yourself, Theon," Robb japed.

"It's your own fault, Greyjoy," Jon added. He was pleased to see the annoyed look on Theon's face.

On Brynden and Robb's fourteenth name day, Theon had decided to take them to a brothel. Robb had refused, but Brynden had accepted the offer as he wanted to know what it was like to be in bed with a woman after listening to some of the experiences Theon had told them about. Ever since that day, they all had to deal with Brynden telling them about the night he had spent with Ros, the beautiful red-headed whore. Their father had not at all been pleased when he had heard about it.

"For once I agree with you, Snow," Theon muttered.

"Cheer up, Greyjoy. There are plenty of other women for you to choose from out there." Brynden chuckled as they all left the courtyard.

* * *

The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king and the royal family. Sansa and her siblings had been seated with the royal children, beneath the platform where their parents hosted the king and queen. In honor of the occasion, their lord father had permitted Sansa and her siblings each a glass of wine, but no more than that. Her favorite part of the welcoming feast had been the procession when she had been escorted by the gallant Prince Joffrey to their seats. Her brother Brynden had not enjoyed it as he had to escort little Rickon first, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors, after their parents and the king and queen had entered the Great Hall.

The queen was truly beautiful, as she wore a jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. The king however had been a great disappointment to Sansa and her siblings. Their father had talked of him often, but all Sansa saw was a fat, drunken man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. She was glad that Prince Joffrey looked nothing like the king. Sansa just hoped that Arya wouldn't ruin the evening with her usual antics. The only disappointment she had with the feast along with her siblings was that they were not permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet. Sansa wished that Lady could come to the feast with her, but her parents would never allow it.

At one point during the feast, Brynden had entertained Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen with the tale about how big the mother direwolf was that he and Robb had discovered on their way back to Winterfell. Sansa thought that her brother was being stupid when he had proclaimed that he would one day be able to ride his direwolf into battle against his enemies. All Sansa cared about the moment however was being with Prince Joffrey. She hoped that her lord father betrothed her to Prince Joffrey.

He was handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and was the soul of courtesy. He talked to Sansa all throughout the feast, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, and telling her about the tourneys held in King's Landing. Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored her siblings. It was like a dream come true, Sansa thought as she found herself falling for the gallant Prince Joffrey, despite the brief amount of time they had spent together. Not for the first time, Sansa wondered what life would be like as Queen and Joffrey as king.

Sansa found herself lost to Prince Joffrey's beauty during the feast. The crown prince was younger and taller than her brothers Robb and Brynden, much to their dismay. He had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. She had never met someone as beautiful and handsome as Prince Joffrey until now.

The dream was over when contents of food splattered against her cheek. The table erupted into laughter and Sansa flushed in embarassement. She knew exactly was behind this and glared at Arya. "That wasn't funny!" She shrieked at her sister, who sat beside Prince Tommen and Brynden.

"You need to lighten up a bit, Sansa," Brynden chuckled, causing Sansa to glare at him as well. It was just like her stupid brother to take Arya's side whenever something like this happened. Leave it to Arya to ruin the evening for her.

Sansa was pleased when Robb came over to Arya and lifted her off the chair. "Time for bed," Robb said, leading her away from the feast groaning.

"And this is where I take my leave," Brynden announced, as he got up and left the table.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Prince Joffrey asked, as Sansa wiped the food off her cheek.

"I am, my prince," Sansa replied with a smile. With Arya gone, Sansa could focus her attention on the prince again and not worry about getting interrupted by her stupid sister.

* * *

The hunt left at dawn. The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight. Prince Joffrey rode with his father, so Robb had been allowed to join the hunters as well. Uncle Benjen, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrik, and the Imp had all ridden out with them. It was the last hunt, after all. On the morrow, his Father, sisters, and Bran would all leave for the south with the king, leaving Brynden, Robb, Rickon, and their mother behind at Winterfell.

Brynden had wanted to go with them on the hunt, but he had been left behind as the Stark in Winterfell with Bran, Jon, his sisters, Rickon, and mother. He didn't really see the point of being left behind as Bran could have stayed at Winterfell in his place. Bran was off saying his farewells while Rickon was with their mother, and his sisters were doing what girls did, but Jon and Ghost were nowhere to be found. Brynden had hoped to spar with Jon while Robb and the others were away, but had noticed that Jon seemed to be angry with everyone these days, and wondered why. Jon was finally fulfilling his dream and going off to the Wall with Uncle Benjen to become a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. He didn't want Jon to go, as he would be left in Winterfell with his mother, Robb, Theon, and Rickon for company.

It was hard for Brynden to believe that his father would be Hand of the King, and Sansa would someday marry the crown prince, the arrogant prick, and become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He envied Bran for getting the chance to live in the Red Keep at King's Landing, the castle the Dragonlords had built. Bran would also get the chance to see the skulls of the dragons that the Targaryens had ridden before they had gone extinct. He had always wanted to see the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, the dragon Aegon the Conqueror used to conquer Westeros. Brynden wondered if his direwolf Shadow would become famous like the Black Dread someday.

Now that his Father, Bran, and sisters were leaving for the south, and Jon to the Wall, Brynden found himself wondering what Winterfell would be like without them. The responsibility of Winterfell would fall onto Robb's shoulders with their mother and Maester Luwin advising him, leaving Brynden to deal with baby Rickon. It was not something that Brynden was looking forward to.

After the hunt had ridden out, Brynden decided to spend most of the morning in the courtyard; practicing shots with his new weirwood bow his father had given him on his fourteenth name day. Shadow watched him practice nearby, his dark golden eyes gazing at Brynden as he loosed an arrow. Shadow was the second largest of the litter, with Ghost being the largest of his litter mates. Growing bored of his training, Brynden set his bow to the side and approached Shadow to lie down on the grass beside him.

Everything was going to change now and Brynden didn't like it. He didn't understand why his father had accepted the king's offer when he had never shown any interest in the south before. As the second son, Brynden wondered if he would be allowed to visit his father and siblings while they were down in King's Landing. He doubted that Arya would enjoy court life that much since she hated being a lady, unlike Sansa. Not for the first time, Brynden wished that father would take him with them to King's Landing. The south would be a lot more interesting than being stuck at Winterfell with nothing to do. He could even participate in some of the tourneys that King Robert Baratheon would often host at the capital.

Bran would get jealous of course if Brynden got to cross blades with Ser Barristan Selmy, Barristan the Bold, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. They were the only knights of the Kingsguard that interested Brynden. The others didn't leave much of an impression on him. He would have loved the opportunity to get to train with Ser Barristan Selmy and the Kingslayer. Brynden doubted the others would have been much of a challenge.

Brynden of course knew that would never happen. He would be stuck in the north and eventually become one of Robb's sworn bannermen. Moat Cailin would soon become his, sooner than he had expected. Father had been having men rebuild the fallen ruin and Brynden had once seen the old fortress. The stronghold would be even bigger than Winterfell when it was finished. Brynden would rule the fortress as Master of Moat Cailin while Robb would command great armies as Warden of the North. It was then that Brynden knew that his place was in the north, no matter how much he wanted to go with his father and siblings to King's Landing.

Suddenly, Shadow got to his feet and looked in the direction where the broken tower was and Brynden heard a howl. Shadow looked at Brynden and he got up, wondering which of his sibling's pups were howling. Shadow bounded off and looked at Brynden, as if he wanted Brynden to follow him. Another howl echoed from the broken tower and Brynden decided to follow Shadow. It was not like Shadow to be agitated and Brynden was curious as to whose pup was howling at the broken tower.

Entering the godswood, Brynden continued to follow Shadow as he bounded past the pool by the heart tree. Brynden had always gone to the heart tree when he wanted to relax, as his younger siblings were too afraid to approach it. Father would often let Brynden hold Ice in the godswood when he was able enough to wield a sword.

Brynden and Shadow soon came upon Bran's unnamed pup by the base of the sentinel tree near the armory wall. Shadow approached Bran's pup, smelled him, and gave his ear a careful nip. "What are you doing here, boy? Where's Bran?" Brynden asked as he knelt down and scratched Bran's unnamed pup by the ear. If he had to guess, Bran was most likely climbing the walls of Winterfell. The pup howled again and together with Shadow, bounded off in the direction of the courtyard.

"Now you guys are just messing with me," Brynden groaned as he chased after them.

Leaving the godswood, Brynden followed Shadow and Bran's pup over to the base of the broken tower. Both pups sat down and looked at Brynden as he approached the tower. He wondered if Bran was up there, climbing the tower. Mother won't be pleased when she finds out about this. Not like he was going to tell her of course.

"Is this where Bran is?" Brynden asked Shadow and Bran's pup. Look at me; I look like a bloody fool talking to two wolf pups.

It was then that Brynden heard a scream and he looked up and saw Bran flailing as he fell from the broken tower. "Bran!" Brynden cried out as he ran underneath him, praying that he caught him. He threw out his arms as Bran slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him, and crashing into the ground. The last thing he heard was Shadow and Bran's wolf howling.


	2. Sword of Winterfell

**Here's the second chapter. I'm glad that you all enjoyed the first chapter. I tried to make each POV section at least 1,000 words, but Brynden's sections will always be the longest. Some will still be shorter than the others.  
**

 **Did not expect to gain this many followers in one chapter. I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it as I am writing this story. And thanks to all those who have reviewed so far.**

 **First time writing as a wolf's mind, but hopefully it will get better as the story progresses.**

* * *

Where was he? Brynden felt like he was walking; yet he was walking on four legs and not two. He was strong and swift, and he could feel the ground underfoot. He knew that this was a dream, yet he had never felt like this before in any of his dreams. A howl rang in the air and his head perked up, looking over in the direction his brother was at. He could smell his brothers and sisters, a familiar scent. His brother howled and he knew that he was also worried about them. There was nothing they could do but howl for them and wait.

Hearing the howl of his brother again caused him to bound off and to enter his human's chambers. Creeping through the halls of Winterfell, he slipped into his room and jumped onto his bed.

Brynden woke up startled as Shadow was on top of him, licking his face. His dark golden eyes stared into Brynden's as he licked his cheek. "It's good to see you too, boy." Brynden chuckled as he scratched Shadow's ears. A jolt of pain shot through his arm and Brynden winced as he lowered it back onto the bed. Taking in his surroundings, Brynden noted that he was back in his bedchambers.

"Brynden!" His twin brother Robb was standing up beside his bed, with a shocked look on his face. "You're awake." It was just like Robb to be worried about his younger twin.

He grinned at his brother, as Shadow curled up on the bed next to him, resting his head on his chest. "You can thank Shadow for waking me up."

"You and Bran have had us all worried sick. The others will want to know that you are up." Robb told him.

Bran, Brynden thought as he remembered how he had ended up in this mess. He still couldn't believe it when he remembered seeing Bran falling from the broken tower. His little brother had always been sure footed and if it had not been for Shadow and Bran's wolf, Brynden didn't want to think about what would have happened to Bran if he had not been there. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, his father had told him before leaving on the hunt with Robb and the king. When father would leave for King's Landing, Robb would become the Stark in Winterfell in their father's place.

"How is Bran?" Brynden asked. Their mother was not here so Brynden guessed that Bran was in a condition worse than he was.

"Maester Luwin says that Bran will live, but it will take some time before he will be able to walk properly again. He has still yet to wake after his fall however. You took the brunt of the impact and broke your left arm. It will take time for it to heal." Robb informed him. That was why his arm hurt so badly when he had tried to lift it. Brynden was just relieved that Bran was all right.

Even if Bran had yet to wake, he was lucky that he would be able to walk again after a fall like that. Breaking his arm was a small price to pay now that Brynden knew that his little brother would recover from his fall. He sighed in relief and laid back down onto his pillow, scratching Shadow's ear with his right hand. Bran owed him big time now for breaking his fall from the broken tower. He would never let Bran forget about it for as long as he lived.

"I still can't believe that Bran fell," Brynden muttered, as he ran his right hand through his hair. Since Bran had started climbing, he had never fallen, not once. It didn't make any sense.

"None of us can," Robb agreed. "I'm certain mother will give Bran an earful when he wakes." There was no doubt in his mind that their mother would do just that.

"Almost makes me feel sorry for the poor lad," Brynden chuckled. They all knew how their mother could get when she was angry. He doubted that their mother would ever let Bran climb again after this incident, not that she would be able to stop him of course. "Are father, the girls, and Jon still here?"

The thought of not saying farewell to father and his sisters was too much for Brynden. He had no idea when he would be able to see them again as their father would be fulfilling his duties as Hand of the King for King Robert Baratheon while his sisters would be settling down in court at the Red Keep. Brynden wondered how Arya would be able to handle life in King's Landing, as his little sister had no desire to be a lady. He didn't worry that much about Jon, as Brynden would be able to visit him at the Wall when his arm was fully healed.

"They're all still here," Robb assured him. "I can go and fetch them if you would like."

"I would appreciate that," Brynden replied. He was relieved that they had not left yet without giving him the chance to say goodbye to them. Looking down at his broken arm, Brynden knew that it would be a while before he would be able to wield a sword again. Robb soon left his chambers, leaving him alone with Shadow.

Shadow looked up at Brynden and he smiled at him. It was all thanks to Shadow and Bran's wolf that Bran would be able to walk again. Robb was right when he had told Brynden that he believed that the old gods had sent the direwolves to them. Without them, Brynden doubted that he would never have known about Bran falling from the tower until it was too late. It was thanks to them that Bran would be able to fulfill his dream of becoming a knight. All Brynden could do now was hope that Bran would wake up soon.

It made Brynden wonder if Bran would still be going with father and the girls to King's Landing. He had yet to wake up and Brynden doubted that the king would stay at Winterfell forever to wait. Brynden was lucky that he had woken up while they were still here. Father would have no choice but to leave Bran behind and his brother would miss the chance to get to meet Ser Barristan Selmy. Not for the first time, Brynden wondered how it was even possible for Bran to fall with his climbing skills. Of all the days, why would Bran choose now to fall while climbing? It was the last day before they all left for the south with the king.

His thoughts were interrupted when Robb came back in with Father, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, and Jon. Arya's face lit up when she saw Brynden and Shadow lifted his head as Rickon jumped onto the bed. He was glad that Rickon had not landed anywhere near his broken arm. Jon looked relieved when he saw that he was all right. It was a shame that Brynden wouldn't get one last chance to spar with Jon before he left for the Wall with uncle Benjen. Winterfell wasn't going to be the same with Jon not around.

"How are you feeling, Brynden?" His lord father asked, with a concerned look, as Brynden messed with Rickon's hair.

"I'm fine, father, just a broken arm is all," Brynden replied.

"Sansa thought that you and Bran were going to die," Arya blurted out.

"No I did not," Sansa snapped.

"Did too," Arya shot back.

It was just like his sisters to get into an argument with each other. The two of them had never gotten along and Brynden doubted that was going to change when they were in King's Landing. Arya would certainly not enjoy life at court.

"Hey, can you two not argue for once. I just woke up." Brynden interrupted before things got out of hand. He was in no mood to deal with one of their usual arguments, even if it would be a while before he would see them again.

"Sorry," Arya apologized.

Sansa smiled. "I'm just glad that you are awake, Brynden. Now we all just have to wait for Bran."

"He'll wake up. I'm certain of it." Brynden said. It was good to know that Sansa hadn't forgotten about her family. Ever since the king and the royal family had arrived, all Sansa seemed to focus her attention on these days was the crown prince.

"When do you think you will be able to wield a sword again?" Jon asked.

"Soon, I hope," Brynden, replied. He could still use his sword hand, but it would be a pain to swing a sword while his other arm was still broken. For now, all he could do was wait for it to heal.

"Before we all know it, you'll be back in the courtyard, training with a sword again," his father said. It was still strange for Brynden when he realized that his father was now Hand of the King.

"Aye," Brynden agreed, nodding his head. It was then that he noticed that his father wanted to say something else to him when he saw the look in his eyes. What was troubling him? "Is something the matter, father?"

"Robb, take your siblings outside. I want to speak with Brynden alone for a bit." Their father commanded and Brynden noticed that Robb seemed to know what their father wanted to talk about.

"Yes, father. Arya, Rickon, come outside. You'll have plenty of time to speak with Brynden later." Robb said and led their siblings out of his chambers.

When the door was shut, father came over and sat down on the bed while Shadow rested his head back onto Brynden's chest. What could father want to talk about that he didn't want his brothers and sisters to listen to? This was not at all what he was expecting after waking up. "What is it, father," Brynden asked.

"It seems that I have you to thank for saving Bran's life," Father said.

"Not just me," Brynden said, looking down at Shadow, and scratching his ear. "If it were not for Shadow and Bran's wolf, I would never have been there when Bran fell." The wolves deserved as much credit as Brynden did for saving Bran's life, even the wolf that Bran had yet to name.

"Either way, I believe that you have earned this." His father laid out on the bed a greatsword taller than Brynden and he instantly recognized it as Ice, the ancestral sword of House Stark. Brynden couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at the sword that his father had often let him handle. "Robb and I agreed that the sword should pass to you."

When Brynden had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. As the second son, Brynden knew that he would never be able to wield Ice as the sword was used only by the Lord of Winterfell, but it didn't stop him from thinking about it. The sword would pass onto Robb though as their father's eldest son and heir. He had never believed that their father would bestow Ice onto his second son.

"Robb agreed to this," Brynden muttered, as he brushed his fingers across the scabbard. If it were not for his broken arm, Brynden would have unsheathed Ice and tested it out with Robb and the others. He still couldn't believe that this was real and wondered if he was still dreaming and had yet to wake from saving Bran from his fall. "Why?"

"Because Bran will be able to walk again because of you. You saved your brother's life, and that should be more than enough reason as to why you deserve the sword." His father told him.

"It just doesn't feel right, father," Brynden said as he rested his hand on Ice. This was Robb's birthright, not his.

"A sword's small payment for a life," Father concluded. "Take it, I'll hear no more of it, is that understood?"

"Yes, father." He knew he should be honored, and he was, but it still didn't feel right to him. Robb would be the Lord of Winterfell, not him.

"Besides, I would rather leave Ice here then take it down south with me." His father did not at all sound like he was looking forward to going to King's Landing. "I will send the others back in. Your mother will be pleased to know that you are awake." His father left his chambers, leaving Brynden alone with Shadow and Ice.

It seemed that he was going to have to get used to wielding a greatsword taller than him for now on.

* * *

His place was here, in the north, but at Catelyn's insistence, Ned had agreed to accept Robert's offer. Four days had passed since Bran had fallen and three since Brynden had woken up. He would need a new sword now to take with him to King's Landing now that he had bestowed Ice onto Brynden. No matter what his son believed, Ned knew that Brynden had earned it for saving Bran's life. Ice belonged in the north as well and he was relieved that Robb agreed Brynden had earned it. Robb and Brynden had always been close as twins, compared with the rest of their siblings.

It was quiet in his solar now that Catelyn spent most of her time in Bran's bedchamber, looking after him. Maester Luwin had assured them that Bran would recover and be able to walk again, but Catelyn would take no chances. She wanted to be with Bran until he woke up. Ned wanted to stay as well for the sake of his son, but it was only a matter of time until Robert decided that they ride south for King's Landing. If his king commanded it, he had no choice but to obey for he was the king's Hand now.

Not for the first time, Ned thought that these honors should not have been his, but Brandon's. He was the eldest son and heir to Winterfell, born to be a King's Hand and father to queens, not him. Ned had never asked for this, never wanted it, but it had fallen onto him all the same when the Mad King Aerys Targaryen had his father and brother executed. He was not at all looking forward to going to King's Landing as Robert's Hand. The south was nothing but a nest of adders that he wanted to avoid.

Damn you, Robert, Ned cursed. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. Winterfell was where he belonged, with Catelyn and their children. It was for Jon's sake that he was going through with this, to find out if he truly was murdered by the Lannisters as Catelyn's sister Lysa had told them. He did not know what kind of answers he would get in King's Landing and could only hope that Robert would listen when he had found them.

A sudden loud and unexpected knock came at the door, interrupting his thoughts. "What is it?"

Desmond's voice came through the door. "His Grace requests an audience, my lord."

What could Robert want with him now? He had already given Robert his answer to his offer. Ned hoped that this meeting was not about them leaving for the south. He knew that they would have to leave eventually, as they were both needed back in the capital. There was nothing keeping Robert here in the north now that he had gotten what he wanted.

"Send him in." Ned got up and crossed the room as Robert was shown in. "Your Grace."

"Enough with the formalities, Ned, we are more than that. I thought I told you the first time." Robert shook his head. He had not forgotten, but Robert was his king now and his liege lord. "Address me as if we were back in the Eyrie, when we were just boys, not kings or lords."

"We aren't those boys anymore, Robert," Ned said as he offered Robert a seat. "We both have a responsibility now to the realm."

Robert gave a small, spiteful laugh. "You always were the more serious one, Ned. But you are right, we aren't those boys anymore." It was still hard for Ned to believe that this was the same Robert he had known all those years ago. "I am sorry about your sons, but I hear that the elder one is already up and about."

"Brynden," Ned told him. Ever since his second son had gotten out of bed, Brynden had spent most of his time admiring Ice and checking in on Bran. He had always been close with the younger ones.

"Ah, yes, Brynden. He is named after Catelyn's uncle, the Blackfish, if I recall." Robert smiled.

"He is," Ned nodded. Catelyn's father, Lord Hoster Tully had not at all been pleased when she had named their second son after the brother he had disowned. According to Catelyn, Ser Brynden Tully was the one she and her siblings would run to with their problems and stories. He wanted to take Brynden with him to the capital, but believed that his son's place was in the north.

"I'm surprised the Blackfish didn't come with your wife and sons to Winterfell as the lad is his namesake. He should have felt obligated to protect your son, as I am with Jon's son."

But not obligated to bestow his son with his rightful title as Warden of the East. The memory was still bitter in Ned's mind, as he still couldn't believe that Robert would deny Jon Arryn's son his birthright, even if he were still a child. He decided to push it out of his mind for now as he was in no mood to get into an argument with Robert. He was still conflicted about going south with Robert as the King's Hand. Ned wanted more than anything to refuse Robert's offer, but he had already agreed to it, and there was no turning back now.

"He decided to enter into Jon Arryn's service before the boys were born." Lord Hoster Tully had taken it as a personal rejection when Ser Brynden had informed him of his intentions and had disowned him afterwards. The Blackfish eventually came to serve Jon Arryn as Knight of the Gate.

"A shame," Robert muttered then shook his head. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, as I know you are still waiting for your other son to wake up, but it is time for us to leave. We have stayed here longer than I had expected to. I'm sorry, Ned."

"I understand." He should have expected that this was the real reason why Robert was here. "When will leave?"

"On the morrow," Robert replied. "You may say your farewells until then." Robert then took his leave, leaving Ned alone once more in his solar.

The moment that Eddard Stark had been dreading had finally come. It was time for him to say farewell to the family he would be leaving behind at Winterfell.

* * *

It was hard for Jon to believe that this could be his last time in Winterfell, as he slowly climbed the steps to Bran's bedchambers. Ghost padded silently beside him. For days, Jon had been waiting for a chance to say his farewell to Bran, but Lady Stark had remained by his bed, day and night, never leaving his side, despite being informed that Bran would be able to walk again when he woke. Jon had run out of time waiting for a chance to say farewell, as uncle Benjen was preparing to return to the Wall, and had told Jon to say his finale farewells.

Ghost nuzzled at Jon's hand as he reached the landing outside of Bran's room. He took courage in that and was relieved when he saw that Brynden was was also inside with Lady Stark. Strapped over Brynden's back was Ice, the Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark. Ever since their father had bestowed Ice to Brynden, he had kept it in his sight at all times, and took it with him wherever he went. His wolf Shadow sensed their presence and turned around to greet Jon and Ghost. He suddenly realized that this would also be Ghost's last time to see his littermates as it was for Jon and his siblings.

Lady Stark looked over from her conversation with Brynden. "What are you doing here?"

Brynden spun around, but frowned at the tone his mother had used to greet Jon. "Jon."

"I came to say farewell to Bran and to Brynden," Jon said, steadying himself. Now was not the time for him to be afraid as his eyes met hers. Lady Stark looked as though she had aged twenty years.

"You've said it. Now go away."

"Mother!" Brynden cried out, and Jon could hear the appalled tone in his voice, directed at Lady Stark. Brynden was always the one who would stick up for Jon whenever his mother would make Jon feel unwelcomed and unwanted. He was also the only one of his brothers to take after their lord father like Jon and had grown closer to when Robb had begun to befriend Theon. Brynden had never trusted Theon as his family had rebelled against the Iron Throne, causing their father to leave to go to war. He would sometimes treat Theon like how Lady Stark treated Jon.

"It's alright, Brynden," Jon assured him. He would face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark as a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch at the Wall. He would not be able to rely on Brynden forever to shield him from Lady Stark's wrath.

"I told you to leave," she said.

"He's my brother," Jon said. He was grateful that Brynden was not interfering as he had to do this himself.

"Shall I call the guards?" Brynden narrowed his grey eyes, cold as ice, at his mother, and balled his hand into a fist.

"Call them," Jon said, defiant. "You can't stop me from seeing him." He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them, and looked down on Bran where he lay.

"Bran," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid." He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared. "We're all waiting for you to wake up. Me, Brynden, Robb, and the girls, everyone . . . "

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.

"I have to go now," Jon said. "Uncle Benjen is waiting. I'm to go north to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snows come." He remembered how excited Bran had been at the prospect of the journey. It was more than he could bear, the thought of leaving him behind like this, wondering if he would ever wake up. Jon brushed away his tears, leaned over, and kissed his brother lightly on the lips.

"I wanted him to stay here with me," Lady Stark said softly.

Jon watched her, wary. He did not know whether she was addressing him, Brynden, or both of them.

"I prayed for it," she said dully. "He was my special boy. I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces of god that Ned would change his mind and leave him here with me. Sometimes prayers are answered."

Brynden remained silent, staring at Lady Stark with a look that reminded Jon of their father whenever he donned the face of the Lord Stark of Winterfell.

Jon did not know what to say. "It wasn't your fault," he managed after an awkward silence.

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. "I need none of your absolution, bastard."

Jon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. "Good-bye," he said.

He had passed his brother and was at the door when she called out to him. "Jon," she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It should have been you," she told him. Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. As Jon turned to leave, he saw the cold look that Brynden was giving his mother, one Jon had never seen his brother give Lady Stark before. Jon left, but heard footsteps follow him out the door. It seemed that Brynden was done talking with Lady Stark.

"I apologize for my mother's behavior. She is exhausted and worried about Bran when we both know that he will be fine when he wakes up." Despite the coldness that Brynden had directed at his mother early, Jon understood what his brother was doing. He was just trying to protect his mother's image and Jon could not blame him. He would do the same thing for his mother, wherever she was or if she was even alive.

"There's no need to apologize, brother. We both know how your mother feels about me." Jon had grown used to it, the coldness that Lady Stark had always treated him with. Where there had been a time when he would have run off and cry, it only made him angry.

It was a long walk down the yard as they walked in silence, with their wolves trailing behind them.

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and saddled and led from the stables. A light snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.

Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands with the best of them. He seemed to have grown of late, as if Bran's fall and his mother's collapse had somehow made him stronger. Grey Wind was at his side. His wolf approached Shadow and Ghost as they came up to greet their littermate.

"You look like a true lord now, Robb," Brynden smiled as Robb approached them. "Though still not as good looking as me."

"Shame, I thought I was looking at a mirror." They chuckled and Robb looked at Jon. He was truly going to miss his brothers and all the adventures they had together. "Uncle Benjen is looking for you," he told Jon. "He wanted to be gone an hour ago."

"I know," Jon said. "Soon."

* * *

For days before Bran had fallen, Arya could scarcely wait to be off for the capital of King's Landing. She would get to travel along the Kingsroad with her father and Sansa, and explore the places that were on the way to King's Landing. She would even get a chance to see Brynden's future seat, Moat Cailin before they left the north. Now that the day had finally arrived, she felt lost. Winterfell had been the only home she had ever known, and she would be leaving her brothers and mother behind. She wished that Bran was coming with them as now it was just going to be her and Sansa going to King's Landing.

It saddened her that Bran had yet to wake from his fall when Brynden had woken up a day after the incident. She had visited Bran a few times while also wanting to see her mother, as she had not left Bran's side since the fall, and had cried soon afterwards when she was alone. It was hard for her to look at Bran in the state he was in, despite being assured by Maester Luwin and her family that Bran would recover and be able to walk again. If only Bran would wake so that he could come with them and not leave her alone with Sansa.

Then there was Jon's farewell Arya was dealing with. She didn't understand why Jon had to go to the stupid Wall anyways. He could have simply gone with her and father to King's Landing, or stayed with Robb and Brynden in Winterfell, with his family. Yet Jon had gone off north with uncle Benjen and the Queen's funny little brother ahead of the king. Arya had watched them leave with Brynden, holding back the tears as she did so. Arya and Brynden had always been close with Jon, as they were the only ones to take after father. She knew that Brynden had taken Jon's departure harder than she had, as he had known Jon longer than her.

Amidst all the commotion of the royal departure, Arya had searched for a place to hide Needle, dodging the men shouting and horses snorting. She had to find a good place to hide Needle, as she didn't want Sansa or Septa Mordane to find about about the gift Jon had given her before he had left. Once she had found a good spot, Arya made her way back to the South Gate where they would be saying farewell to Brynden and the others. Her mother had not come as she had locked herself up with Bran in his bedchambers.

As Arya approached the South Gate, she saw Brynden by Robb's side, with Ice strapped onto his back. Father had a new sword strapped to his belt as he said his farewell to Brynden and Robb, with Jory Cassel lingering in the back. Sansa was with them along with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole. Not for the first time, Arya wished that she could stay at Winterfell, as it would just be her and Sansa down in King's Landing with their father.

"Arya, where you have been?" Father asked, as Arya made her presence known with Nymeria trailing behind her. Nymeria greeted Lady, Shadow, and Grey Wind, as Arya joined the group.

"Not getting into any trouble, were we, little sister?" Brynden asked, with a grin on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arya replied, with her own grin, causing her brothers to chuckle. She wished that her mother were here to say farewell and for Bran to wake up.

"Just try not to get into any fights with Sansa while you are away," Brynden said. Whenever their father and mother weren't around, it was always Brynden who would end any fights that Arya would get into with Sansa.

"That will never happen, brother," Robb said.

"No promises, my lord." Her brothers laughed at Arya's impression of Sansa, while Sansa frowned at her. The memory of their laughter warmed her on the long ride south.

* * *

 **I planned to have five POV sections for this chapter, with a Catelyn one at the end, but decided to stop for this chapter.**

 **Reviews**

 **jeanne d'arc: I'll do my best to make Brynden not like those other OC's that you have read. If I start to fall into that pit, let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it.**


	3. Calm before the Storm

**The Catelyn POV section takes place after "AGOT Catelyn III". Tyrion's POV takes place right after "AGOT Bran IV". Theon's POV takes place before "AGOT Bran V". Brynden's POV takes place before "AGOT Bran VI".  
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 **Shoutouts go out to those who have reviewed so far: jean d'arc, Hail King Cerion, guest, tpowe15, mpowers045, thunder18, Nipplegunz, and Shadowwolf1997. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review for my story.**

* * *

It was hard for Catelyn to leave Winterfell when her son was still in a coma, but she knew that this needed to be done. She had finally come to her senses about Bran, as she could do nothing more to help him, not in Winterfell, but in King's Landing, where she could discover the name of those who had sent the catspaw to slit her son's throat. She had no proof yet, but Catelyn believed that the Lannisters were behind the attempt on her son's life for who else would want her son to be dead? Had it not been for his wolf, they would have succeeded.

Ser Rodrik waited outside the castle gate as she said her farewell to her sons. Her sons' wolves prowled the area around them. They had both insisted on coming with her, but she had refused them. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, she had told them. Soon she would be on her way to White Harbor, where she would take a ship and set sail for King's Landing. Catelyn was certain that she would reach the capital before Ned and the girls did. She knew that her boys would be able to take care of each other and look after Bran and Rickon while she was away.

Seeing her sons together, Catelyn noticed that Brynden was starting to get taller than Robb. Brynden had the true look of a northerner like his father with the Stark face: long, solemn and guarded, a face that gave nothing away. She had left very little of herself in her second born son. He was the only one of her trueborn sons to take after Eddard Stark. As he grew, he looked more like Ned than his trueborn brothers. A true northerner, Catelyn thought.

Robb on the other hand looked like her; like Bran, Rickon, and Sansa, he had the Tully coloring, the auburn hair and the blue eyes. Yet there were times when she would see something of Ned in Robb, something stern and hard as the north. While Brynden was the better swordsman, Robb was born to lead. She was proud of both her sons and prayed that they both grew old and had children of their own. She hoped that they would never have to experience war. Catelyn knew that would not happen if Ned discovered the truth about Jon Arryn's death, if her sister Lysa was to be believed. The Lannisters would not go down without a fight.

"I still don't understand why I can't go with you," Brynden said as they embraced each other. He had been insistent on coming with her to King's Landing, as Robb would be the one in charge of Winterfell, not him. What he didn't realize was that Robb would need him to help look after Bran and Rickon.

"Robb needs you more than I do, as do Bran and Rickon." Catelyn told him. Her youngest son had not at all been pleased when he had learned that she was leaving Winterfell for King's Landing. "Look after Rickon, will you?"

"I will, I promise," Brynden said. He let go of her and Catelyn focused her attention on her eldest son. She had forgotten that her sons were only fourteen, and she was leaving them to shoulder the burden of Winterfell and her youngest sons on their own.

"Have a safe journey, mother," Robb said as they embraced.

"I will not be gone for long," Catelyn assured her son. They let go and Catelyn took her time to look at both of her boys. "You two look after each other while I am gone. I will return as soon as I can. Try and not to burn the castle down while I am gone." She smiled as her sons chuckled.

"No promises," Brynden said.

"We'll still be here when you return." Robb added, smiling.

"And try and not to get into any trouble," Catelyn said, looking at Brynden.

"I'll do my best," Brynden promised, smirking. "Don't forget to bring the dagger back with you."

Brynden had made her promise to bring the dagger back with her after she had shown it to Ned. Valyrian steel was rare to come by and Brynden believed the owner would soon come asking for it back. Catelyn knew that her son also wanted to keep it, to use it in battle with Ice. Her son had been fascinated by Valyrian steel ever since Ned had let him hold Ice. It wouldn't surprise her if Brynden wanted to own a collection of Valyrian steel just to admire them.

"I will never understand your obsession with Valyrian steel, brother," Robb sighed, shaking his head.

"I told you, it's because of their history." Brynden said. Catelyn had no love for swords like her son, but she could not deny the beauty that Valyrian steel had. Forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, Valyrian steel was still as sharp as the day it was forged.

Ever since Ned had given Ice to Brynden, her son wouldn't let it out of his sight, keeping it strapped over his back at all times wherever he went. Catelyn wouldn't be surprised if she found her son sleeping with the sword in his chambers. With his arm almost healed, Brynden would soon begin training with the blade, to hone his skills with Ice. It would give her son something to do, as he had been distant with everyone and brooding after Jon Snow had left for the Wall. She wouldn't be surprised if her son left to go visit Ned's bastard at the Wall while she was gone.

"I will return with the knife, you need not worry about it." Catelyn assured her son.

"That's all that I ask, mother. I'd hate to see it go to waste." Brynden said.

"Lady Stark, its time for us to leave," Ser Rodrik called out.

"I must go now," Catelyn said, as she kissed her sons one last time before mounting on her horse and riding out of Winterfell with Ser Rodrik.

* * *

So much for a pleasant welcome, Tyrion thought as he left the Great Hall of Winterfell with his guards, Jyck and Morrec. The Stark boys had not at all been pleased by his presence and he could tell that he was not welcomed here. What he found curious was that Lady Stark was not here to greet him when her son Bran was awake, as she had been constantly at her son's side after he had fallen. He wondered what could have happened that would cause the Starks to despise his House even more than they did now. Tyrion would not be surprised if the Stark boys got their distaste for Lannisters from their father, Lord Eddard Stark. Their father and uncle Benjen had made it clear to Tyrion that they despised his family.

"Lannister," a voice called out from behind him.

His guards went for their blades, but Tyrion had them stand down as he turned around. He could see why his guards had gone for their blades as the younger Stark twin was accompanied by his direwolf. Ghost had been better company than his littermates, Tyrion thought, as he remembered the wolves of the Stark boys, lashing out at him when they had entered the Great Hall with the youngest Stark boy.

"What is it?" Tyrion asked, with a wary look at the black direwolf. It was not as big as Ghost was, but it was certainly larger than the other wolves. The wolf stared back at him, its dark golden eyes watching him and his guards.

"I'm sorry about how my brother treated you," Brynden Stark apologized. "Given the circumstances, however, I hope you can forgive my brother."

"What circumstances?"

"We just received a raven about the death of our sister's direwolf, by your sister's command." Brynden replied, with a stern look on his face. For a moment, Brynden Stark reminded Tyrion Lannister of Jon Snow. They both had the northern look of their father unlike their other brothers, yet Brynden was a foot taller and more muscular than Jon Snow. "Our other sister's wolf is out in the wild."

Of course his sister would be the cause of it. His sister had not at all been pleased with the wolves accompanying them back to King's Landing. Tyrion wondered if that was the reason why the wolves had attacked him in the Great Hall. "Still, your brother should have shown me a lord's courtesy. As I said before, your bastard brother seems to have all of your father's graces."

Brynden Stark's eyes lit up at the mention of his bastard brother. "How is Jon? I haven't heard anything from him since he left for the Wall with uncle Benjen." The boy's love for his bastard brother reminded Tyrion of his own love he had for Jaime. "I wish that I could have convinced Jon to stay with us at Winterfell."

"Tell Robb and Brynden that I'm going to command the Night's Watch and keep them safe, so they might as well take up needlework with the girls and have Mikken melt down their swords for horseshoes," Jon Snow had told him on the day they had bid farewell. Tyrion doubted that Brynden Stark would ever melt down his Valyrian steel greatsword that Lord Stark had given him. Jon had laughed and told him that his brother always had a fascination with Valyrian steel.

"Jon made his decision on his own to go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch." Tyrion wondered if he should mention about Benjen Stark's disappearance, but decided against it. The boy looked like he had been taking it hard since his family had split up. "He has accepted his place at the Wall with his sworn brothers."

"He has brothers, true brothers, here at Winterfell." The boy did not at all seem pleased with Tyrion's response. Tyrion wondered if Brynden Stark would ride for the Wall to convince his brother to come back to Winterfell. "He never should have left. It was my mother's fault that he had left, I just know it was."

"We all make our own choices in life. Whether you want to believe it or not, your brother chose his path." Jon had accepted his fate when Tyrion had revealed to him what the Night's Watch truly was, a shadow of its former self. The men of the Night's Watch would become Jon Snow's brothers when he swore his vows and joined the order.

"Doesn't mean that I have to like it. Jon may have believed that his place was at the Wall, but I still don't agree with his decision. He left because my mother was never kind to him and would not welcome him once my father was gone." It seemed to Tyrion that Brynden Stark had been thinking a lot about his brother's departure, trying to figure out if he could have convinced him to stay at Winterfell with Lady Stark.

"Where is Lady Stark by the way? I expected to see her at the Great Hall." Something else had to have happened other than the death of one of the Stark wolves.

"My mother isn't feeling well. She stayed with Bran while he was in a coma, and hadn't slept for days." It was hard for Tyrion to tell if Brynden Stark was telling the truth.

"Is your mother even here right now?" Tyrion watched Brynden Stark as he waited for a response, hoping that he would reveal something to liked to believe that he was good at reading people and Brynden Stark was just a boy of fourteen.

"My mother is not any of your concern, Lannister," Brynden Stark replied, looking at Tyrion with his cold grey eyes, revealing no emotion to him. "Enjoy your stay at the winter town, Imp." The black wolf got up and followed Brynden Stark as he headed back inside.

Tyrion Lannister had decided that both Stark boys had inherited their father's distaste for Lannisters.

* * *

Brynden Stark had done his best to make him feel unwelcomed, and Theon could understand why as they sat in Lord Eddard's solar with Robb and Maester Luwin. His father had started a rebellion that had caused his father to leave to go to war. While Theon saw Robb as a younger brother, he never had that kind of affection for Brynden. The younger Stark twin had remained by his baseborn half brother Jon Snow's side while Robb had befriended Theon. They were all tired, as Maester Luwin had woken them up in the night with news from King's Landing.

"Damn the Lannisters," Brynden cursed, balling his hand into a fist. "They should answer for their actions."

Theon wondered if Robb would call the banners of the north and march onto Casterly Rock. Unlike his twin, Robb was quiet as he held the letter in his hand, crushing it as he closed his hand around it. Things had not been the same since Lord and Lady Stark had left Winterfell, leaving Robb as the Stark in Winterfell, with his twin to help him with his duties as a lord.

"I would advise against that, my lord," Maester Luwin cautioned. "We must leave this matter to be dealt with by your father."

"How can he do that when he is wounded?" Brynden asked. Lord Stark had been caught beneath a falling horse during the fight. His leg was shattered and Grand Maester Pycelle had been giving him the milk of the poppy, but he had yet to wake.

"I agree with Brynden," Theon said, ignoring the younger twin's glare. "The Lannisters should answer for their actions, blood for blood."

"Only the Lord of Winterfell can call the banners, and I am just the acting lord while our father is away," Robb said, looking at Theon and Brynden. "The Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock. You would have me march on the castle?"

"With an army at our back," Brynden replied. "We just can't sit by and do nothing, Robb. They killed Jory and two others of our guardsmen."

"If your father dies, you will be Lord of Winterfell," Theon added.

"Our father will not die, Greyjoy," Brynden snapped, with a stern face that reminded Theon of Lord Eddard Stark. He was used to the angry tone of Brynden Stark by now.

"The honor of the north is in my hands now," Robb told them as he laid the crumpled letter onto the table. "Our lord father told me to be strong for our brothers, Brynden, and I mean to do just that. Maester Luwin how goes the repairs for Moat Cailin?"

Moat Cailin, the ancient stronghold the First Men had been built at the top of the Neck, and was Brynden Stark's future seat. Theon smiled when he realized that Robb was at least getting the north ready for a war.

"Only the first three towers have been fully repaired, my lord," Maester Luwin replied. "It will be some time before the castle is fully repaired. It is still a shadow of what it used to be."

The ancient stronghold had stretched at least twenty miles from the headwaters of the Fever River. It had been used by the First Men to throw back southron invasions for ten thousand years. It would be almost impossible for the Lannisters of Casterly Rock to attack the north, unless they attacked by sea. The Lannisters would be fools if they dared attacked the north.

"It still looks better than what it used to look like," Brynden said. Much to his displeasure, Theon had gone with Brynden once with Lord Stark to see the stronghold that would one day become his to rule while Robb would be Lord of Winterfell and his liege lord. "I doubt the mighty Lord Tywin would even attack Moat Cailin, Robb."

"Still, it never hurts to be prepared for the worst. Father already has ordered Lord Manderly to strengthen the defenses of White Harbor and Galbart Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart to fortify Moat Cailin with a hundred bowmen each." It seemed that Lord Stark had also been making preparations in case it came to a war with the Lannisters. "He also believes that we will have need of your father's fleet, Theon."

"Father is a fool if he believes that Balon Greyjoy would aid us against the Lannisters," Brynden said. "I wouldn't trust those Greyjoys with my life or yours, Robb." Theon was not at all surprised by Brynden Stark's outburst.

No matter how hard he had tried to prove himself to Brynden Stark, the younger twin had never warmed up to him. Even Robb could not get his brother to accept Theon. Brynden treated Theon as a hostage to his father's good behavior, just like Lady Stark and the rest of the castle. Theon doubted Brynden would ever forgive his House for starting the rebellion that had caused his father to go to war.

"It is not your place to decide, brother," Robb snapped. "We'll need all the help we can get if it does come to war with the Lannisters. For now, all we can do is wait and hope that father recovers from his injury."

* * *

Winterfell just wasn't the same anymore with Father, Mother, Jon, and the girls gone. Brynden longed for the days before the king had arrived at Winterfell as he sat on a moss-covered stone beneath the weirwood, cleaning Ice. He smiled as he watched Bran and Rickon play with the wolves. It was good to see Bran up and about again, but he had noticed that Bran had dared not climb anything ever since his fall. He was afraid that he would fall again. Bran had been lucky that Brynden was there to soften the fall. It was the direwolves that had led him to Bran, Brynden had told his brother.

Shadow lapped at the water and settled down at Brynden's side, watching his littermates play with Brynden's brothers. He scratched the wolf by the ear and felt at peace for a moment in the godswood. His mother had been a follower in the Seven, but Brynden had always believed more strongly in the old gods, gods of the Starks and the First Men, his father's gods. Brynden always been curious about the heart trees, and the deep red eyes carved into the wood reminded Brynden of Jon's white wolf, Ghost. They both had the same color of eyes, but the eyes of the tree were older, even older than Winterfell.

This was where his father would come to whenever he would take a man's life, seeking the quiet of the godswood. Brynden could understand now why his father would come here. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.

As Brynden cleaned Ice, he couldn't help but think about the trouble with the Lannisters and Bran more than he should have, and Brynden wished that he could do something about it. There was nothing for him to even do at Winterfell with Robb ruling the castle as its lord, leaving him with no time to spend with his twin and brother. It fell onto Brynden to look after Bran and Rickon whenever Robb would ride out to distant holdfasts with Hallis Mollen. Whenever Robb was away more than a day, Rickon would cry and ask Brynden if Robb was ever coming back. Even when Robb was home, he seemed to have more time for Hallis Mollen and Theon Greyjoy then he ever did for his brothers, and Brynden hated it as the only time he spent with Robb was when they practiced at their swordplay.

Both of them bore a real sword now and Brynden could tell that the burden of ruling Winterfell was weighing down on his brother. With Ser Rodrik gone, Brynden helped Robb out by drilling the guards, and would sometimes spar with Bran. It felt like the only thing he was good at these days. As the second son, Brynden felt useless watching his twin rule Winterfell on his own. There were times when Brynden wondered if it would have better if he had gone to King's Landing with father and the girls. His sisters were no doubt still upset over the loss of their wolves, causing Brynden's anger to the Lannister to grow even more.

If Robb ever did decide to call the banners and ride off to war, Brynden vowed to go with his twin and spill the land with Lannister blood. He knew that he would be leaving Bran and Rickon behind, but they would be safer in Winterfell with Maester Luwin than going to war with them. He still couldn't believe that Jory was dead, as his father's guard would sometimes spar with him when he asked.

Nothing good ever came with a Stark going down south, Brynden had decided. His father should have never accepted the king's offer to become the Hand of the King. It was pointless to think about it now.

"Robb!" Brynden looked up and saw his elder twin approach with Grey Wind at his side as Bran and Rickon rushed over to greet their brother. Brynden couldn't blame his brothers for missing Robb. He also missed having his twin by his side at times, but Robb had a responsibility now. Brynden took whatever chance he had now whenever Robb would show up.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Brynden said as he sheathed Ice over his back and got up. He smiled as Robb messed with Bran and Rickon's hair. "I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about us, brother." He approached and clasped Robb's hand then pulled him into a hug. He regretted his outburst he had with Robb about the Greyjoys. It was not his place to question his brother's decisions, as he was only the second son.

"Being a lord is very tiring," Robb sighed, letting go and looking at their brothers. "I'm sorry I haven't spent a lot of time with you two. Father made it look easy being the Lord of Winterfell."

"Our father had more experience than you," Brynden pointed out. But he had been the second son, Brynden thought. It was his father's elder brother, Brandon Stark, who was supposed to be the Lord of Winterfell before he was executed by the command of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen alongside their grandfather, Lord Rickard Stark. He hoped that what had happened to their father would never happen to him and Robb. Brynden didn't know what he would do if he lost his twin.

"Can we go riding again soon, Robb?" Bran asked.

Brynden and Robb were surprised by Bran's question, remembering the incident in the wolfswood with the wildlings. They both had gone off looking for the wolves, leaving Bran behind, believing that he was safe on his own by the river where Jory had taken them fishing. When they had returned, Bran was surrounded by two wildlings and deserters of the Night's Watch. They had quickly dispatched them with the aid of their wolves and taken one of the wildling women as a captive for questioning.

"Are you sure about that, Bran?" Robb asked. "You almost got hurt the last time we rode out." Even with Theon, Maester Luwin, the wolves, and the guards with them, Bran had still ended up in danger. Their mother would never forgive them if she found out about it.

"I am. I'm not afraid, Robb." Bran replied. But you are of climbing, Brynden thought, but did not voice his thoughts aloud.

"I'll try and make some time then and if I can't, then I'll let Brynden take you out riding." Robb promised and looked at Brynden. "You don't mind taking him riding, do you?" It was better than sitting around in the castle and doing nothing.

Brynden shook his head. "Not at all. Just leave Bran and Rickon to me while you deal with Winterfell." He then looked at Bran and smiled. "Maybe when you are feeling up for a journey, we can go and visit Jon at the Wall. What do you say, Bran?" It had been a while since Brynden had heard of Jon. The last he had heard of him was from Yoren and the Imp. Brynden wanted to see Jon for himself to know that his brother was settling in at the Wall.

Bran smiled at the thought of visiting their brother at the Wall. "I'd love to see Jon again." It was good to see Bran smiling again. He had been upset for a while when he had learned that their mother was gone and father and the girls had left for the capital without him. Brynden knew how much his little brother had been looking forward to meeting Ser Barristan Selmy.

"You can join us as well if you have the time, my lord," Brynden grinned at Robb, causing his brother to chuckle. It was good to see that some of the old Robb was still in there. His brother had become more serious and distant ever since he had been left in charge of Winterfell.

"Can I come too?" Rickon asked, looking up at his brothers.

"You're too young to go riding, Rickon," Robb replied. "Maybe when you're older you can go with us to see Jon at the Wall." Their little brother looked upset at the thought of being left behind again. Rickon had taken their family's departure harder than Brynden, Robb, and Bran had, as he believed that everyone had abandoned him.

"But I want to go with them," Rickon cried out.

"You will," Brynden assured his baby brother, kneeling in the grass and messing with his hair. "You'll just have to grow a bit if you want to ride with us. You're too small to ride a horse."

Rickon frowned and folded his arms. "I am not small! I could ride Shaggy with you." An image of Rickon riding his direwolf, caused Brynden, Robb, and Bran to chuckle at their baby brother.

"I don't think he'd be too pleased about that." Robb smiled. "Bran, can you take Rickon back inside? I have some things that I need to discuss with Brynden." Robb had tried to put on the face that their father would use when he donned the face of the Lord Stark of Winterfell.

"Fine," Bran muttered and led Rickon out of the godswood with Shaggydog and Summer trailing behind them.

"Thank you for looking after Bran and Rickon for me," Robb said when they were alone. "I know it isn't easy with father and mother away. Its hard for me as well."

"I do what I can for our family. You have your duties to Winterfell and I have mine to our brothers." Brynden assured his twin.

"I know I've been distant with you lately, and I'm sorry for that. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind joining me during my talks with the other northern lords. I could use you by my side, brother." Brynden was surprised by Robb's offer. He had expected his twin to scold him for the way he had treated Theon when they had gotten the news about Jory and their father's injury.

"Why? I doubt I'd be able to give you any better advice than Maester Luwin could. I'm better at training the guards than taking part in your councils."

"I know, which is why I am going to be including you in them. Should anything happen to father I will become the Lord of Winterfell and you will be my heir. You need to start attending my councils just as I did with father to learn how to rule."

Brynden was taken aback. It was true, their father had often made Robb part of his councils as he was his eldest son and heir. He never believed that he would ever take part in their father's council, as he was only the second son. Brynden knew he would not be Robb's heir forever. His brother would eventually have sons of his own and they would inherit Winterfell while Brynden and his sons would rule Moat Cailin as their bannermen. This was not at all what he wanted, but he couldn't refuse his brother's offer.

"If you insist," Brynden sighed, resigning himself to his fate. Being part of Robb's councils was the last thing he ever expected or wanted to do.

Later that night, Brynden was in bed with Ros, enjoying the pleasures of being inside a woman. She was a true northern beauty, with fair skin, auburn hair, brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face. She was his favorite and he had made it known to the other men that she was his. Brynden didn't want any other men sleeping with her, especially Theon Greyjoy. When they were done, he spilled his side on her breasts and laid down on the bed beside her.

Brynden had always been careful when he was with Ros. He didn't want to father a bastard as his own lord father had done with Jon. Brynden didn't want any of his children to be treated the way Jon had by his mother. Kissing Ros's neck, Brynden played with her nipples, enjoying the feel of her soft breasts in the palm of his hand. It had certainly been a while since he had last been with her. "I've missed you, Ros," he sighed.

"I was starting to feel lonely without my wolf in my bed," Ros said.

"It won't happen again," Brynden promised, cupping her chin and pressing his lips against hers.

A loud and unexpected knock came at the door. Brynden broke off the kiss and turned, annoyed that someone would disturb his time with Ros. "What is it?"

Hallis Mollen's voice came through the door. "My lord, Lord Robb requests your presence in his chambers." At this time of the night?

"So much for fucking me all night," Ros told him, causing Brynden to roll his eyes.

"What is this about, Hal?" Brynden asked as he got out of bed to get dressed.

"A raven from King's Landing. Your father has been arrested for treason against the crown."

* * *

 **Reviews**

 **jeanne d'arc: Valyrian steel swords usually pass to the heirs, but Lady Forlorn was passed onto Ser Lyn Corbray, a second son, as was Blackfyre, which was given to Daemon Blackfyre, a bastard. They usually are given for some kind of a great deed. I know saving Bran doesn't really live up to the deeds they did, but I decided to go with it so Ice could remain with the Starks.**

 **Hail King Cerion: We'll have to wait and see.**

 **BigWilly526: Jon will remain at the Wall, sorry to crush your hopes. I never really enjoyed those stories where Jon leaves the Wall anyway, because it ruins his character IMO.**

 **Shadowwolf1997: Same here.**


	4. Hour of the Wolf

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait.**

 **This chapter will probably be the shortest one I'll have in this story. Shoutout to all those who have faved, followed, and reviewed so far. Thanks for the support.**

* * *

It was times like these that Brynden wished that his father were here. As he stood in the solar with Robb, Lord Rickard, the Greatjon, and the other lords bannermen. That was the one thing he and his siblings could all agree on; they all wished Father was here. He did not feel right being here, but Robb had insisted that he join him, as he would be his heir if something happened to their lord father. Brynden hoped that Robb was wrong and they would rescue Father from King's Landing.

"The Kingslayer smashed the Tully host at the Golden Tooth. It won't be long before they march onto Riverrun." The Greatjon announced. He was a large man, heavily muscled, and carried a greatsword that was bigger than Ice. The Lord of the Last Hearth was now one of Robb's staunchest champions after what had happened the night before.

Lord Umber had threatened to take his forces home if he was placed behind the Hornwoods or the Cerwyns in the order of the march, Robb told him he was welcome to do so. "And when we are done with the Lannisters," he promised, scratching Grey Wind behind the ear, "we will march back north, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker." Cursing, the Greatjon flung a flagon of ale into the fire and bellowed that Robb was so green he must piss grass. When Hallis Mollen moved to restrain him, he knocked him to the floor, kicked over a table, and unsheathed his greatsword. All along the benches, his sons and brothers and sworn swords leapt to their feet, grabbing for their steel.

Yet Robb only said a quiet word, and in a snarl and the blink of an eye Lord Umber was on his back, his sword spinning on the floor three feet away and his hand dripping blood where Grey Wind had bitten off two fingers. "My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord," Robb said, "but doubtless you only meant to cut my meat." Brynden had no doubt that Robb had impressed the man as he struggled to rise, sucking at the red stumps of his fingers, and then began to laugh. "Your meat," he roared, "is bloody tough."

Robb had later confessed to him when they were alone that he thought the Greatjon was going to kill him. "Did you see the way he threw down Hal, like he was no bigger than Rickon? Gods, I was so scared. And the Greatjon's not the worst of them, only the loudest. Lord Roose never says a word, he only looks at me, and all I can think of is that room they have in the Dreadfort, where the Boltons hang the skins of their enemies."

"I doubt any of those stories of the Boltons are true." Though Brynden also thought about it when he was near the Lord of the Dreadfort.

"I hope you are right." He gave a weary shake of his head. "Lord Cerwyn means to take his daughter south with us. To cook for him, he says. Theon is certain we'll find the girl in one of our bedrolls one night. I doubt you would mind, though."

"I'll bed her for you if you are worried about that," Brynden japed. It had been a while since they had a good laugh.

"It won't be long before Lord Tywin joins the Kingslayer. The river lords won't stand a chance against the full might of the Lannister army on their own." Lord Rickard said, looking at the map of the riverlands. The Lord of Karhold was a gaunt man, large, with a thick beard and hair loose past his shoulders.

Brynden wondered if the numbers they had would be enough to take on the Lannisters. They had twelve thousand men at the moment, but Brynden knew that more would join them as they marched to Moat Cailin. He never thought that he would visit his future seat with an army at his back. Their mother would not be pleased when she found out that they were leading an army to war.

"We'll know more about the Lannister movements when we reach Moat Cailin." Robett Glover said.

"Lord Tywin would be a fool to attack Moat Cailin," Galbart Glover pointed out. "When Lord Tywin marches, he'll be staying close to the Trident, taking the castles of the river lords one by one, until Riverrun stands alone."

They also had very limited options, Brynden noticed as he looked at the map. He was eager to make the Lannisters pay for their treachery, but how did Robb plan to take on the Kingslayer and Lord Tywin? They were seasoned battle commanders while Brynden and Robb were only fifteen, and never fought a battle in their lives. He was worried for their Father and one mistake could end up costing his life. It also didn't help that the Lannisters had more numbers than they did.

"It won't do us any good making plans here," Lord Cerwyn said. "We should march onto Moat Cailin and find out more about what is happening in the riverlands."

All the other northern lords agreed and Robb dismissed them, leaving him and Brynden alone in the solar with Grey Wind and Shadow. Brynden could tell that his brother was busy coming up with a plan to deal with the Kingslayer and Lord Tywin. Time was not on their side and they needed to act before the riverlands fell completely to the Lannisters. They had many leagues to go and while they marched to Moat Cailin, they would be leaving the river lords to fend for themselves against the Lannisters. War was not as simple as he thought it would be.

"You're worried," Robb said, cutting through the silence that had fallen into the room.

"How can I not be? We're going to war against the Kingslayer and Lord Tywin Lannister." Brynden hated the feeling of being afraid, but he was well aware of how ruthless the Lord of Casterly Rock could be to his enemies. He remembered what happened to the Reynes and Tarbecks when they had defied the Lannisters of Casterly Rock.

"You can always stay here at Winterfell and leave the fighting to me." Robb smiled.

"Like that will ever happen. I won't stay here like a craven while you go off to war." He remembered Bran's pleas for them to stay as well as Maester Luwin counseling them to stay. They would here none of it. Even if he was afraid of facing the Lannisters in battle, he wanted to fight his first battle with Robb by his side. Together they would hold the Neck and help the Tullys against the Lannisters. He would prove that he was a Stark of Winterfell like his brother and Father. "Besides, you need someone to watch your back."

"And who will watch yours?" Robb asked.

"I can take care of myself. Don't forget who is the better swordsman here." Brynden replied. He was the better sword and archer but Robb was better than him with the lance.

"I don't think our enemies will care much about which one of us is the better swordsman." Robb said as he got up, calling Grey Wind to him. They will when he was shoving his sword through their bodies. "You should get some rest. It will be a long march to Moat Cailin."

"So should you," Brynden called after his brother. He wondered if Ros would be willing to join him on the march. He doubted that there would be any women down in the south that would be able to pleasure him like Ros could. Looking forward to another night with Ros, he called Shadow to follow him as he left the solar.

Later that night, Brynden was inside Ros, enjoying the sound of her gasps and moans. He needed the comfort of a woman before he marched into war.

When they had finished, Brynden took the opportunity to ask her if she wanted to come with him. "I know it will be dangerous, but I need a woman like you by my side to warm my bed when I need it."

"Admit it, you'll miss me while you're gone." Ros grinned.

"I doubt you'll make any business here when we are all gone." Brynden smirked. "Most of the men will be with us in the south."

"You have a point there." Ros sighed. "I'll think about it."

"We'll be leaving soon." Brynden warned her. He'd hate to be down in the south fighting with no women to warm his bed at night. His father and mother would not approve but Brynden didn't care.

Two days later, Brynden and Robb were out in the yard beneath the gatehouse as a red dawn broke across a windswept sky, saying their farewells to Bran. He was going to miss Bran, but he was the Stark in Winterfell while they were away.

"You are the lord in Winterfell now," Robb told their brother. He was mounted on a shaggy grey stallion like his, his shield hung from the horse's side; wood banded with iron, white and grey, and on it the snarling face of a direwolf. They both wore grey chainmails over bleached leathers, with a fur-trimmed cloak across their shoulders. "You must take my place, as I took Father's, until we come home."

"We'll be back before you know it," Brynden assured Bran. He could tell that his brother was scared but knew that he would be fine. Brynden and Robb would be doing all of the fighting while Bran would be ruling safely in Winterfell.

"I know," Bran replied miserably.

"Listen to Maester Luwin's counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that we'll be back as soon as the fighting is done." Robb said.

Rickon had been wild as a winter storm when he had learned Brynden and Robb were riding off to war, weeping and angry by turns. Brynden was not at all surprised when Rickon had refused to say farewell to them.

"I told him," Bran said. "He says no one ever comes back."

"Mother will be home soon." Brynden reminded them. "She'll help you rule Winterfell when she returns and look after Rickon." She would be able to calm Rickon down, she always could.

"Not just, Mother," Robb corrected him. "We'll bring back Father and the girls as well."

"I know," Brynden sighed and smiled at Bran as Robb wheeled his courser around and trotted away. "Farewell, little brother." He spun his courser around and followed Robb with Shadow trailing beside him. "Hard to believe that we're marching off to war." Brynden said to Robb as he pulled up beside his brother's horse.

"Do you wish that Jon was here with us?" Robb asked.

"He should be here with us." Brynden replied. The last they had heard of their brother was when the Imp had come to Winterfell. He wondered if Jon knew about their father's arrest.

"Jon made his choice when he left with uncle Benjen. His place is now at the Wall while ours is at Moat Cailin." He knew his brother was right, but Brynden still missed his brother and wished that he was with them to help free their father from the Lannisters.

A roar of cheers from the foot soldiers and the townsfolk met them as they rode out of Winterfell, cheering for Brynden and his brother as they rode past them with Grey Wind and Shadow racing beside them. Hallis Mollen was ahead of them, carrying the rippling white banner of House Stark atop a high standard of grey ash. Theon Greyjoy rode behind them while the Greatjon fell on Robb's left side. Their knights formed up in a double column behind them, steel-tipped lances glinting in the sun. Despite the feelings Brynden had about their enemies, he couldn't help but smile as he rode off to war by his brother's side with Grey Wind and Shadow beside them. It was time for the wolf to face the lion.

* * *

Catelyn was relieved to see that her sons had sent eyes out, even to the east. The Lannisters would come from the south when they came, but it was good that her sons were being careful. My sons are leading a host to war, she thought, still only half believing it. She was desperately afraid for them, and for Winterfell, yet she could not deny feeling a certain pride as well. A year ago they had been boys. What were they now? She wondered.

Just beyond, through the mists, as she rode with Ser Wendel Manderly and her uncle, she glimpsed the walls and towers of Moat Cailin, the future seat of her second son. The curtain walls were still being rebuilt, but they were almost as high as Winterfell's. In place of the wooden keep that had once stood there was a stone keep. She wondered if Moat Cailin would look like the great stronghold the First Men had once held when it was finished.

Standards had been raised atop all three towers. The Karstark sunburst hung from the Drunkard's Tower, beneath the direwolf; on the Children's Tower it was the Greatjon's giant in shattered chains. But on the Gatehouse Tower, the Stark banner flew alone. That was where her sons had made their seat. Catelyn made for it, with Ser Brynden and Ser Wendel behind her, their horses stepping slowly down the log-and-plank road that had been laid across the green-and-black fields of mud.

She found her sons surrounded by their father's lords bannermen, in a drafty hall with a peat fire smoking in a black hearth. Robb was seated at a massive stone table, a pile of maps and papers in front of him, talking intently with Roose Bolton and the Greatjon, while Brynden observed. She saw that Brynden's arm had fully healed from when she had last seen him. At first they did not notice her, but their wolves did. The great black and grey beasts were lying near the fire, but when Catelyn entered they lifted their heads, and their eyes met hers. The lords fell silent one by one, and Brynden noticed her before Robb did and smiled as his brother looked up. "Mother," they greeted, their voices thick with emotion.

The direwolves got to their feet and padded across the room to where she stood. They seemed bigger than a wolf ought to be, especially Brynden's. "You two've grown a beard," she said to them, while Grey Wind and Shadow sniffed her hand.

"I don't plan to keep it," Brynden said while Robb rubbed his jaw.

"I like it." Catelyn stroked the wolves' heads, gently. Grey Wind and Shadow nipped at her fingers, playful, and trotted back to their place by the fire.

Ser Helman Tallhart was the first to follow the direwolves across the room to pay his respects, kneeling before her and pressing his brow to her hand. The Glovers followed, Galbart and Robett, and Greatjon Umber, and the rest, one by one. Theon Greyjoy was the last.

"Will the knights of the Vale be joining us?" Brynden asked.

Catelyn shook her head. "Only my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who has left my sister's service for mine."

"It is an honor to finally meet the Blackfish," Brynden said.

"Is Ser Rodrik with you as well, Mother? I've missed him." Robb asked.

"Ser Rodrik is on his way north from White Harbor. I have named him castellan and commanded him to hold Winterfell till our return. Maester Luwin is a wise counselor, but unskilled in the arts of war."

"Have no fear on that count, Lady Stark," the Greatjon told her in his bass rumble. "Winterfell is safe. We'll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister's bunghole soon enough, begging your pardons, and then it's on to the Red Keep to free Ned."

"My lady, a question, as it please you." Roose Bolton said in a small voice. "It is said that you hold Lord Tywin's dwarf son as captive. Have you brought him to us? I vow, we should make good use of such a hostage."

"I did hold Tyrion Lannister, but no longer," Catelyn was forced to admit. She remembered what the Imp had told her about the dagger when she had shown it to him. She would have to thank Brynden later for telling her to keep it. "I was no more pleased than you, my lords. The gods saw fit to free him, with some help from my fool of a sister."

The lords were anxious to question her further, but Catelyn raised a hand. "No doubt we will have time for all this later, but my journey has fatigued me. I would speak with my sons alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords." She gave them no choice; led by the ever-obliging Lord Hornwood, the bannermen bowed and took their leave. "And you, Theon," she added when Greyjoy lingered. He smiled and left them.

"It is good to see you again, Mother," Brynden said after they were all alone. He was starting to look more and more like Ned.

"And you as well," Catelyn smiled. "I have not forgotten about our promise." She took out the Valyrian steel dagger and handed it to her son. His eyes lit up as he took it and hung it to his belt. "Tyrion Lannister told me that he had never owned a dagger like that in his life. I was deceived."

"What do you mean?" Robb asked.

"Lord Petyr Baelish told me that the blade belonged to Tyrion Lannister." How could she have let herself be fooled by him? Her mistake in trusting Littlefinger had started a war in the Riverlands. What did he hope to gain by lying about the dagger?

"There's nothing we can do about it now. The Lannisters have laid siege to Riverrun." Brynden told her.

"That's not at all. A second host even larger than Jaime's led by Lord Tywin has closed off the kingsroad. He's now marching north toward Harrenhal, burning as he goes." Robb added.

Grim and grimmer, thought Catelyn. It was worse than she'd imagined. "You mean to meet him here?" she asked.

"If he comes so far, but no one thinks he will," Robb said. "I've sent word to Howland Reed, Father's old friend at Greywater Watch. If the Lannisters come up the Neck, the crannogmen will bleed them every step of the way, but Galbart Glover says Lord Tywin is too smart for that, and Roose Bolton agrees. He'll stay close to the Trident, they believe, taking the castles of the river lords one by one, until Riverrun stands alone. We need to march south to meet him."

"Better to cut off the head," Brynden said.

The very idea of it chilled Catelyn to the bone. What chance would two fifteen-year-old boys have against seasoned battle commanders like Jaime and Tywin Lannister? "Is that wise? You are strongly placed here. It's said that the old Kings in the North could stand at Moat Cailin and throw back hosts ten times the size of their own."

"Yes, but our food and supplies are running low, and this is not land we can live off easily. We've been waiting for Lord Manderly, but now that his sons have joined us, we need to march." Robb replied.

"Marching is all very well," she said to her sons, "but where, and to what purpose? What do you mean to do?"

"The Greatjon thinks we should take the battle to Lord Tywin and surprise him," Brynden replied.

"The Glovers and the Karstarks, however, feel we'd be wiser to go around his army and join up with Uncle Ser Edmure against the Kingslayer." Robb added. He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of auburn hair, looking unhappy. "Though by the time we reach Riverrun, I'm not certain."

Catelyn looked at Brynden, but he shook his head. "It's Robb's call, not mine."

"You two cannot afford to seem indecisive in front of men like Roose Bolton and Rickard Karstark. Make no mistake, these are your bannermen, not your friends. You named yourself battle commander. Command."

Her sons looked at her, startled, than at each other. "As you say, Mother."

"I'll ask you again. What do you mean to do?"

Robb drew a map across the table, a ragged piece of old leather covered with lines of faded paint. One end curled up from being rolled; he weighed it down with his dagger. "Both plans have virtues, but look, if we try to swing around Lord Tywin's host, we take the risk of being caught between him and the Kingslayer, and if we attack him, he has more men than we do, and a lot more armored horse. The Greatjon says that won't matter if we catch him with his breeches down, but it seems to me that a man who has fought as many battles as Tywin Lannister won't be so easily surprised."

"Good," she said. She could hear echoes of Ned in his voice, as he sat there, puzzling over the map. "Tell me more."

"I'd leave a small force here to hold Moat Cailin, archers mostly, and march the rest down the causeway," he said, "but once we're below the Neck, I'd split our host in two. The foot can continue down the kingsroad, while our horsemen cross the Green Fork at the Twins." He pointed. "When Lord Tywin gets word that we've come south, he'll march north to engage our main host, leaving our riders free to hurry down the west bank to Riverrun."

Catelyn frowned down at the map. "You'd put a river between the two parts of your army."

"And between Jaime and Lord Tywin," he said eagerly. "There's no crossing on the Green Fork above the ruby ford, where Robert won his crown. Not until the Twins, all the way up here, and Lord Frey controls that bridge. He's your father's bannerman, isn't that so?"

The Late Lord Frey, Catelyn thought. "He is," she admitted, "but my father has never trusted him. Nor should you two."

"We won't," Brynden promised.

"What do you think?" Robb asked.

She was impressed despite herself. "Which force would you two command?"

"The horse," Robb answered at once. "Brynden will lead the other host." Her second son did not seem pleased, and knew it was because he wanted to fight his first battle by Robb's side. "Lord Bolton will be Brynden's second-in-command."

Catelyn also didn't want to see her sons to be separated, but Robb was wise enough to give command of the second host to his brother. "A good choice."

Robb nodded and rolled up the map. "I'll give the commands, and assemble an escort to take you home to Winterfell."

"I am not going to Winterfell," she heard herself say, surprised at the sudden rush of tears that blurred her vision. "My father may be dying behind the walls of Riverrun. My brother is surrounded by foes. I must go to them."

* * *

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 **jean d'arc: Ros is a small reason as to why Brynden doesn't trust Theon. He doesn't trust him because he's a Greyjoy and because his family had caused his father to go to war.**

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	5. Cold Winds Rising

**This chapter ends the first book - A Game of Thrones. The next book will see some more divergence from cannon than the first one.**

 **Once again, shoutout to all those who have reviewed (especially to those who have reviewed, it means a lot), followed, and favorited. Thanks for all the support so far.**

* * *

I will not fail you, Robb. Brynden had promised before they had parted ways. While Robb had taken nine tenths of their horse; knights, lancers, freeriders, and mounted bowmen to Riverrun, Brynden had continued the march south with the larger part of the northern host, pikes and archers and great masses of men-at-arms on foot, to confront the huge Lannister army coming north under Lord Tywin. All he had to do was distract Lord Tywin long enough for Robb to relieve Riverrun of the Lannister siege. He was still not certain whether there would be a need to battle the Lannister army as he knew it would not be wise to risk losing the men that Robb had given him.

Seventeen thousand and three hundred men were under his command and it was up to them to prevent Lord Tywin from aiding the Kingslayer at Riverrun. How could he attack Lord Tywin's army without sustaining heavy losses? Lord Bolton had suggested a night's march to surprise the Lannister army but Brynden doubted they would be able to do much damage to their forces before they retaliated. Their best option would be to fortify their defenses on a hill where they would have an advantage against the Lannisters. The plan wasn't perfect, but while Lord Tywin kept his eyes on Brynden's host, he would be buying time for Robb to reach Riverrun and lift the siege.

If there was one thing about the march that Brynden hated, it was the wait. All he had for his company was Shadow and his battle guard that his mother had insisted on, and the lords bannermen had agreed along with Robb. Smalljon Umber, Harrion Karstark, and Ser Wylis Manderly were among those selected to be part of his guard. Heirs to their houses like Brynden would be if anything happened to father. One of his companions was even a woman: Dacey Mormont, Lady Maege's eldest daughter and heir to Bear Island, a lanky six-footer who had been given a morningstar at an age when most girls were given dolls. He enjoyed their company even though he wished that he were at Robb's side.

This was to be his first battle and Brynden would be lying if he said that he wasn't afraid. He wished that Jon were here, but Jon was at the Wall, leagues from here, now a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. Robb was lucky that mother was with him along with Theon Greyjoy. Brynden still didn't trust the Greyjoy, but Robb did and would have him by his side for his first battle. Brynden loved his brother but only a fool would befriend and trust a Greyjoy. He would never forgive Theon's House for the war they had started, causing his father to go to war.

Now more than ever he missed his father's guidance. His father would know what to do in this situation, but he was a prisoner in King's Landing, leagues from here. He could not rely on his father forever and Brynden had to use everything his father had ever taught him if he hoped to stand a chance against Lord Tywin and give Robb the time he needed to make it to Riverrun.

The longer he took to march down south to face Lord Tywin, the more time he gave to Robb. Brynden wondered how his brother planned to lift the siege of Riverrun, but focused his mind on his plan. Studying the map in his tent, Brynden massaged his forehead as he looked at the surroundings near the river. It was a long shot, but Brynden wondered if they could use the barges to sneak some of their men behind enemy lines at night and destroy their baggage train.

"Dacey," Brynden called out, looking up from the map.

"My lord?" Dacey entered the tent, waiting for a command.

"Summon the other lords for a war council. I have a plan to take on Lord Tywin." He just hoped that he would buy enough time for them to retreat once they were committed to the battle. It was the only course of action he could think of without taking heavy losses. The time they had taken to march down the Green Fork would be more than enough for Robb to reach Riverrun.

Once all of the lords had arrived for the war council, Brynden observed the men under his command. Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, was a cunning commander, and a man who scared both Brynden and Robb. He wondered what the man would think of him when he informed them of his plan. The other lords that had been left in his command was Robett Glover, Halys Hornwood, Medger Cerwyn, Ser Wylis Manderly, and Harrion Karstark. They were all older than him and Brynden knew it would not be wise to show uncertainty and fear to these men.

"How many men do you suggest be given this task?" Robett Glover asked after Brynden had finished informing them of his plan.

"A hundred men will take the barges down river and disembark when they are behind the Lannister lines. Another thousand will engage the Lannisters and give us time to retreat back to the causeway, distracting them long enough for the others to hit their baggage trains." Brynden realized that he was sending these men to their deaths, but this was a battle that they could not win. Once Lord Tywin learned from the prisoners that Robb was attacking the Kingslayer, he was certain that the man would rush to his son's aid. By then, Robb will have routed out the Lannisters from Riverrun.

"How can we be certain that Lord Tywin will not give chase?" Lord Cerwyn asked.

"Because the man cares for the wellbeing of his son. When he learns of the danger his son is in from the prisoners, Lord Tywin will have no choice but to retreat." Lord Bolton replied, with his soft voice.

"Giving us the time we need to reform our army at the causeway." Brynden added. "Once we are back at Moat Cailin, I doubt that Lord Tywin will march against us. The rest will be all up to Robb. We've given him more than enough time to reach Riverrun." If Robb rode hard with the cavalry from the Twins, Brynden had no doubt that his brother was already at Riverrun.

"We still would have to give off the appearance that we are marching onto Lord Tywin. The man will notice something is off if not all of our forces are moving." Lord Hornwood pointed out.

"Which is why we will set up our defenses on this hill." Brynden said, pointing at the hills close to the Green Fork. "The Lannisters will believe that the men we are sending to engage them are the vanguard. When we see that the battle has started, we will retreat and hope that their sacrifices are not in vain." It all came to whether or not Robb had defeated the Kingslayer and lifted the siege of Riverrun. He hated waiting for the news of his brother's fate, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Robb had his own guard to protect him, but would they be enough against the Kingslayer? He also feared for his mother's safety and prayed that she was not anywhere near the battle. His mother had insisted on accompanying Robb to Riverrun.

"Sacrifice a few so the rest can fight another day," Harrion muttered. "I do not like it."

"What other option do we have?" Brynden asked. "If we retreat now, we risk giving Lord Tywin the time he needs to realize something is not right and warning the Kingslayer. I do not like it either, but its better than giving an open battle against the Lannisters. We could lose more than the ones we are sending now to distract the Lannisters."

"Indeed, the Lannisters will break off their attack when Lord Tywin realizes that he has been tricked." Lord Bolton said. "Our host will be left relatively intact while the Lannisters will have suffered casualties and the loss of their baggage trains."

"If the men we send out accomplish their task." Robett Glover pointed out.

"Then let's hope that they do." Brynden said. "It will be a huge blow to the Lannisters if they succeed."

"I will have my men get the barges ready for transport." Ser Wylis said. It seemed that bringing the barges from the Twins had been a good idea after all.

"See to it." Brynden nodded his head and looked at Lord Bolton. "I leave you in charge of choosing the men for the task and tell the drummers to beat assembly." Lord Bolton bowed and left the tent. "The rest of you are dismissed." Once they were all gone, Brynden sighed and slumped down onto his seat. He had no idea how tiring commanding could be and wondered if Robb felt the same way when he had made his battle plans. The fate of all these men were in his hands.

Pouring himself a goblet of wine, Brynden took a sip before getting up and making his way to where Ice was resting, beside the Valyrian steel dagger that he had yet to name. Most Valyrian steel blades had a name and a history behind them, but this dagger had none. It was his to name and use as he saw fit now that it was his. He would get more use out of it than whoever had owned it before. With Ice and the dagger, Brynden couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he had a suit of Valyrian steel armor and shield. It was a shame that none existed.

Shadow came over to him and Brynden smiled as he put the weapons away to scratch his ears. "Looks like we'll have to wait before fighting our first battle, boy." More like a massacre, Brynden thought. Shadow seemed disappointed but licked his fingers, causing Brynden to chuckle. "I'm certain there will be plenty more battles for us."

When it was time for them to march, Brynden summoned his squire to help him with his armor. Shadow was curled up on the ground when Elmar Frey appeared. Like most of the Freys, he had a weasel-like appearance. Elmar serving as his squire was one of the conditions they had to accept in order to cross the Twins. Brynden was just glad he didn't have to wed one of the Frey girls like Robb had to. He shuddered at the thought of having one of the Frey girls as his wife if they also looked like a weasel. He almost felt sorry for Robb and for once he was glad that he was not the first-born son. Brynden doubted that Arya would be pleased when she learned that she was betrothed without her consent.

"You ready for another march, Elmar?" Brynden asked as the eleven year old helped put on his armor.

"Always, my lord," Elmar replied. The poor lad had no idea what he was getting himself into with his betrothal. Arya would rip him to shreds before they were married. "I hear that we will be fighting soon."

"Aye, we will," Brynden said. "The Lannisters won't know what hit them."

"Do you have a plan for when we face them?"

"I do. Now go get saddled up. We'll be marching with or without you." Brynden slung Ice over his shoulder and attached the dagger to his belt. He looked at Shadow and smiled. "You ready to go, boy?" Shadow's dark golden eyes looked at his own and Brynden knew that his wolf was ready. He headed over to his horse and mounted up as the men were forming up.

"I have chosen the men who will take part in their tasks." Lord Bolton told Brynden as he rode up to him.

"Good. What of the ones sent down the river?"

"Ser Wylis has already seen to it. They will wait for the signal of attack before attacking the baggage trains."

"Let us hope that this works." There was no turning back now.

* * *

The warhorns had sounded early in the noon when the Stark host had been spotted. The Stark boys had certainly taken their time on the march and Tyrion wondered where the boys were as he observed the banners that had started to form up in the battle lines. He glimpsed the flayed man of the Boltons, the bull moose of the Hornwoods, the Karstark sunburst, Lord Cerwyn's battle-axe, the mailed fist of the Glovers, and the twin towers of Frey. So much for his father's certainty that Lord Walder would not bestir himself. The white of House Stark was seen everywhere, the grey direwolves seeming to run and leap as the banners swirled and streamed from the high staffs.

As they prepared for battle, Tyrion remembered Robb and Brynden Stark as he had last seen them, in the Great Hall of Winterfell, and the direwolves had come at him out of the shadows, and suddenly he could see them again, snarling and snapping, teeth bared in his face. Would the boys bring their wolves to war with them? The thought made him uneasy.

The Stark boys proved to be a lot more cautious than his father had anticipated as Tyrion noticed the Stark vanguard approach. It was then that he realized that something was not right. The main Stark host began to retreat as the vanguard charged at them. What were the Stark boys thinking? Behind the Stark shield wall that had formed up in front of them, a hiss of arrows soared over them and his clansmen charged into the shield wall with Ser Gregor leading the attack.

This was no battle, Tyrion thought as their men smashed against the Stark shield wall. The northerners held their lines as they faced overwhelming odds. What did the Starks hope to gain by sacrificing all these men?

A crescent of enemy spearmen had formed ahead, a double hedgehog bristling with steel, waiting behind tall oaken shields. Gregor Clegane was the first to reach them, leading a wedge of armored veterans. Half the horses shied at the last second, breaking their charge before the row of spears. The others died, sharp steel points ripping through their chests. Tyrion saw a dozen men go down. The Mountain's stallion reared, lashing out with iron-shod hooves as a barbed spearhead raked across his neck. Maddened, the beast lunged into the ranks. Spears thrust at him from every side, but the shield wall broke beneath his weight. The northerners stumbled away from the animal's death throes. As his horse fell, snorting blood and biting with his last red breath, the Mountain rose untouched, laying about him with his two-handed greatsword.

Shagga went bursting through the gap before the shields could close, other Stone Crows hard behind him. Tyrion shouted, "Burned Men! Moon Brothers! After me!" but most of them were ahead of him. He glimpsed Timett son of Timett vault free as his mount died under him in full stride, saw a Moon Brother impaled on a Karstark spear, watched Conn's horse shatter a man's ribs with a kick. A flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from he could not say, but they fell on Stark and Lannister alike, rattling off armor or finding flesh. Tyrion lifted his shield and hid beneath it.

The hedgehog was crumbling, the northerners reeling back under the impact of the mounted assault. Tyrion saw Shagga catch a spearman full in the chest as the fool came on at a run, saw his axe shear through mail and leather and muscle and lungs. The man was dead on his feet, the axehead lodged in his breast, yet Shagga rode on, cleaving a shield in two with his left-hand battle-axe while the corpse was bouncing and stumbling bonelessly along on his right. Finally the dead man slid off. Shagga smashed the two axes together and roared.

Tyrion watched as the remaining northerners were routed out by the clansmen. Looking back at the hill where his lord father had slept, Tyrion was surprised to see the reserve host reforming their lines. It was then that he saw trails of smoke rising above them from the camp. How could a Stark force have managed to get behind their enemy lines? Tyrion got his answer when he looked at the river. By then the main Stark host was already gone, marching back to where they had come from. What was the purpose of this massacre?

Tyrion spurred his courser around in search of his father. He would find out what had happened over at the camp when he found him. Lord Tywin was seated by the river, sipping wine from a jeweled cup as his squire undid the fastenings on his breastplate. "A fine victory," Ser Kevan said when he saw Tyrion. "Your wild men fought well."

"That was a massacre. The Stark vanguard didn't stand a chance against ours." Tyrion pointed out and looked at his father. "It seems that the Stark boys managed to surprise you."

"Stark sent a small force down the river. They waited until the battle started before attacking the baggage train with arrows and fire. The matter is dealt with now." His father did not seem pleased that they were caught off guard. "It seems the Stark boys were more cunning than one would expect of someone their age."

An urgent shout of "Lord Tywin!" turned his father's head. Tywin Lannister rose to his feet as Ser Addam Marbrand leapt down off his courser. "My liege, we have taken one of the Freys prisoner. The rest of their commanders have eluded us."

"And the boys?" Lord Tywin asked.

Ser Addam hesitated. "Only one of the Stark boys was with them, my lord. The prisoner says the other crossed at the Twins with the great part of his horse, riding hard for Riverrun."

Green boys, Tyrion remembered, more like to be brave than wise. The Stark host had achieved what they had set out to do. They had been delayed, and all the time they had spent watching this Stark host march from the causeway gave time for the heart of the Stark strength to descend on his brother.

Tyrion couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

War had engulfed the Seven Kingdoms and it was the right time for them to begin reaving and raiding again as they had done in the past. With King Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark dead, Victarion knew it was only a matter of time before his brother made his move. The greenlanders would be too busy fighting amongst themselves to stop them when they began their attack. The only thing stopping his brother from initiating his attack was that his son Theon was still a hostage to the Starks. Balon would lose the respect of the captains if he caused the death of his only living son. Now all they had to do was wait and gather their strength before they strike.

His brother had never given up on his desire to become King of the Iron Islands and secede from the control of the Iron Throne. They had lost once before and this time they would rise harder and stronger than before. A boy king sat on the Iron Throne and by all reports he did not have the power to stop them from rebelling against the crown. It was the others Victarion worried about, including Stannis Baratheon. He had not forgotten the man who had defeated him in the sea and the next them they met, Victarion vowed he would emerge as the victor. The Iron Fleet would not be defeated this time.

Along the sacred strand of Old Wyk, longships lined the shore as far as the eye could see, their masts thrust up like spears. His brother had been summoning captains from all over the Iron Islands, combining their forces with the Iron Fleet. Once their fleets were assembled, the only fleet that would be able to oppose them in the Sunset Sea was the Redwynes. Their commander was nothing compared to Stannis Baratheon. He would destroy their fleet if they opposed the Iron Fleet.

Making his way to his brother's solar, Victarion crossed the rope bridge to the Sea Tower. The solar was as damp and drafty as ever. Buried under his sealskin robes, his brother sat before the brazier with their brother by his side. "Brothers," he said as he entered the chambers. "What is dead can never die."

"But rises again, harder and stronger."

"I have made my plans. It is time you heard them." Balon told him after they were done.

"What of Theon?" Victarion frowned when his niece entered the solar. He could never understand why his brother had raised Asha as his heir when Theon had been sent away. His brother did not seem to care about his only living son. No woman would ever have a chance to rule over the Iron Islands, even if she were a true Ironborn warrior.

"The boy can take care of himself. If not, then he is not a true Ironborn. I have waited too long to let this opportunity slip away. The greenlanders will not be able to stop us this time." Balon replied.

His brother had believed that the last time when Robert Baratheon had won the Iron Throne. With a Baratheon sitting on the Iron Throne instead of a Targaryen, Balon had believed the other lords would not support the new king when his brother declared their independence. They were proven wrong when the north, the reach, and the westerlands rose up against them and crushed them. His brother had lost two sons in their rebellion and a third was taken hostage while they had suffered heavy losses. Now was different though for them. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms were divided, fighting amongst themselves and two kings contesting for the Iron Throne.

"The first strike will consist of eight longships. They will harry the Stony Shore, raiding the fishing villages and sinking any ships they meet. The attack may also draw some of the northern lords out from behind their stone walls." His brother continued.

"Who will lead the attack?" Asha asked.

"Dagmer Cleftjaw and Aeron will accompany him." Balon replied.

"May the Drowned God bless our swords," the priest said.

"Asha my daughter," Lord Balon went on, "you shall take thirty longships of picked men round Sea Dragon Point. Land upon the tidal flats north of Deepwood Motte. March quickly, and the castle may fall before they even know you are upon them."

Asha smiled like a cat in cream. "I've always wanted a castle," she said sweetly.

"Victarion," Lord Balon said. "The main thrust shall fall to you. When my sons have struck their blows, Winterfell must respond. You should meet small opposition as you sail up Saltspear and the Fever River. At the headwaters, you will be less than twenty miles from Moat Cailin. The Neck is the key to the kingdom. Already we command the western seas. Once we hold Moat Cailin, the pups will not be able to win back to the north and if they are fools enough to try, their enemies will seal the south end of the causeway behind them, and they will find themselves caught like a rat in a bottle."

"I will not fail." Victarion promised.

"The lords have gone south with the pups. Those who remained behind are the cravens, old men, and green boys. They will yield or fall, one by one. Winterfell may defy us for a year, but what of it? The rest shall be ours, forest and field and hall, and we shall make the folk our thralls and salt wives." Balon continued.

"And the waters of wrath will rise high, and the Drowned God will spread his dominion across the green lands!" Aeron exclaimed.

"What is dead can never die," Victarion intoned along with his brother and niece. It was time for the kraken to rise from the sea.

* * *

"This cannot be."

Brynden stared at the letter that had arrived at Moat Cailin from Riverrun. His father was dead and Robb was now the King in the North, making him a prince. It had all been for nothing. The men he had sacrificed in the massacre on the Green Fork had given their lives for nothing. His brother may have captured the Kingslayer and lifted the siege of Riverrun, but it was all for the sake of their father. Their entire purpose for marching south was to rescue their father and the girls from the Lannisters. He could only imagine how devastated his mother must be right now. At least now he knew the fate of Robb's host and didn't have to worry about his brother's safety anymore.

"I'm afraid it is, my prince," Lord Bolton said. He was one of the first to swear fealty to their new king when they had received the news. It was still strange for him to be addressed as a prince. Brynden wondered how Robb was taking it as the new King in the North. It was now up to them to defend their new kingdom from the southron lords and the boy king. The Lannisters would pay for what they had done to their family. We will avenge you, Father, I swear it.

He crushed the letter in his hand as he swore vengeance against the Lannisters. It would not do to show weakness in front of man like Roose Bolton, and he calmed himself as he loosened his grip. "Lord Bolton, I leave you in command of our defenses for now. I want to be left alone for a while. No one is to disturb me."

"I understand," Lord Bolton bowed and swiftly left the solar. Brynden refused to cry as he made his way out of the tower with Shadow trailing behind him.

Once he was outside, Brynden received condolences from his guards and was grateful that none of them followed him. He wished that mother was here, but she was leagues from here at Riverrun with Robb. Robb had family to comfort him in his grief, but all Brynden had was Shadow and he knew that his wolf shared his sorrow. It was still hard for him to believe that his father was dead, executed by the command of the new king, and Robb was now a king and Brynden a prince. They would never be ruled by a southron king again.

It felt like ages ago when Brynden had first visited Moat Cailin with his father. This stronghold will be yours to rule someday, his father had told him. He was all that stood in the way of any southron fool who dared try to attack the north. Now more than ever they had to finish fortifying the stronghold if they hoped to secure their kingdom. Brynden couldn't help but think of what his brother planned to do now that they were rebelling against the crown. There were three kings now instead of one.

"I sent those men to their deaths for nothing." Brynden whispered to Shadow as he knelt into the grass. His wolf paced around him until they were facing each other, his dark golden eyes staring into Brynden's grey ones.

He ran his fingers through the soft black fur of his wolf, finding comfort in his presence. It was the Old Gods, the gods of the north that had sent the wolves to them, Brynden remembered Robb telling him. If there truly were gods, how could they let his father die by the hands of a boy king? Every terrible thing that had happened to his family had been because they had gotten involved with the south. His father never should have gone south and accepted the king's offer to become Hand.

It was the same for when his grandfather, Lord Rickard Stark had gone south with two hundred of his best men. None of them had ever returned. And now it was his Father and his guards that would not be coming back. Did the same fate await Brynden and Robb if they lingered in the south? What of Sansa and Arya? He couldn't help but worry as his House had always suffered when they had gone south. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Shadow's. Brynden would show no mercy to his enemies.

After a while of being alone with Shadow, Brynden got up and made his back to his solar. He had to write back to Robb and let him know that he was fine. His mother would be worried sick about him while waiting for a reply. Brynden wondered if Robb was willing to send the Kingslayer to Moat Cailin. He would be more secure in the north than if they left him in the riverlands. The Kingslayer was the only leverage they had against the Lannisters. Brynden was certain Robb would agree with him.

Sixteen thousand and four hundred men were camped around Moat Cailin. It would have been less if Brynden had decided to give battle to the Lannisters. Robb had won all of his battles so far while Brynden had lost his first one. He was just relieved that he had given Robb the time he needed to reach Riverrun. Smalljon Umber bowed his head as Brynden entered the Gatehouse Tower where the Stark banner flew alone.

Once he was inside his solar, Brynden sat down at his desk and got out a quill and ink while Shadow curled up by the fire. He got out a piece of parchment and began to write his letter:

Robb,

I am relieved to know that you are all right. Tell mother that I am alive and well. We both know how worried she can get. I still can't believe that father is gone and you are now a king. I regret to inform you that I lost over a thousand men against Lord Tywin. It was a massacre. I sent them to their deaths so the rest of us could retreat back to the causeway. With the Kingslayer now our prisoner, I suggest that you send him to Moat Cailin. He will be a lot more secured in the north and I hope that you will agree.

I will remain at Moat Cailin until you have further need of us.

Brynden signed his name and sealed it. Once the raven was sent to Riverrun, Brynden could focus his attention on repairing Moat Cailin.

* * *

 **I didn't change much with the battle on the Green Fork other than making it into a massacre and the Starks not suffering too many casualties.**

 **Reviews -**

 **Guest: Well they only lost a thousand men, but I doubt this was the kind of battle you were expecting.**

 **jean d'arc: They'll be separated during the war. I doubt Brynden will be able to influence Robb a whole lot from Moat Cailin.**

 **ravens18: Val will appear in book 3 - A Storm of Swords. At the pace I'm going, ten or fifteen more chapters. No promises though.**


	6. You Reap What You Sow

**Here we are with the first chapter of the second book! As you may have already noticed, it takes a while for me to get started writing on the next chapter, not to mention that I always try to reach 5,000 words. I also don't want the quality of my writing to suffer, so I take my time when it comes to finishing each POV section.  
**

 **Once again, shoutout to all my followers and reviewers (especially to you reviewers, new and returning). Enjoy and drop a review, good or bad.**

* * *

How could he have ended up in this situation? Defeated and captured by a boy of fifteen, and fallen for his trap in the Whispering Woods like a fool. It was because of his arrogance and overconfidence that he was now a prisoner of Robb Stark. From what he had heard from his cell, the Stark boy had been proclaimed the King in the North by his bannermen. They were fools if they believed that they stood a chance against his father. Jaime knew it was only a matter of time before the Stark boy was defeated by his lord father. Soon he would be freed from this cell and be reunited with Cersei. Until then, he had to wait or plan a way for him to escape.

All Jaime could think about since he had been captured was Cersei. His guards rarely spoke to him and when they did, Jaime knew they were lying to him when they told him how his sister and father were killed. Renly Baratheon had crowned himself king and was marching onto King's Landing with the support of the storm lords and the reach. Jaime would have expected Stannis to have proclaimed himself king before his brother. If the Baratheon brothers did both lay claim to the Iron Throne, Jaime knew it was only a matter of time before they fought each other. Once one of them was defeated, his father would come down on them and finish off the victor while they licked their wounds.

Was this what Lord Stark had thought about while he was held captive in the Black Cells before his execution? Planning his escape and believing that he would be rescued? Jaime still couldn't understand why they would execute Lord Stark. The man had much more value alive than dead. If Lord Stark had lived, Jaime was certain that he would be back at King's Landing by now and at Cersei's side instead of being stuck inside this cell.

Not for the first time, Jaime cursed himself for falling into the Stark boy's trap. He should have realized that something was not right when he had lost his outriders, yet he had continued on anyway, despite the danger he could have been walking into. It was because of his mistake that his father now had to deal with the Stark boy and Renly Baratheon with only one Lannister host. Jaime wondered how his father would respond now that he was the Stark's prisoner.

The door to his cell swung open and Jaime smirked when the Stark boy walked in, wearing an open circlet hammered bronze incised with runes, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. Despite the situation he was in, Jaime would show no weakness to the Stark boy. "The King in the North," he greeted, with a mocking tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He could sense the boy's anger and knew that he was still upset over his lord father's death.

"You're lucky that you have more value to me alive than dead, Kingslayer," the Stark boy replied and he smiled. Jaime wondered what was so amusing to the Stark boy, as the boy looked around at his cell. "Don't get too comfortable in here. You'll be transferred from this cell on the morrow."

"And where am I being transferred to?" Jaime wondered if he truly was being freed from this cell and sent back to King's Landing. Could his sister or father have managed to strike a deal with the Stark boy to see him released? The boy would have to be a fool if he had decided to trade Jaime for his sisters who were captives in King's Landing.

This time it was the Stark boy who grinned. "Moat Cailin." Jaime's hopes were dashed when he heard those words. He had seen the fortress of the First Men when he had gone north with King Robert to Winterfell. The stronghold was practically impenetrable from the south. Once it was fully repaired, he doubted his father would be able to take the fortress unless he attacked from the north. "You'll be left in my brother's care for the duration of the war unless your family accepts my peace terms."

"You're a fool if you think that my father is going to negotiate with you. You obviously don't know him very well." Now how was he going to get back to Cersei? It would be impossible for him to escape once he was in the north.

"No, but he's starting to know me." The boy's confidence would be his downfall just as it had been for Jaime's. The Stark boy may believe that he was winning this war, but all it took was for one mistake to lead to his defeat. It was just only a matter of time before the boy realized it.

"Two victories don't make you a conqueror." Jaime had to somehow get word out to his father that he was being transferred to Moat Cailin. He did not want to remain a prisoner for the rest of his life. He had to get back to Cersei. Damn whoever had decided to execute Lord Stark. Lord Stark was his only chance at being freed from his prison cell. Jaime doubted that even Tyrion, wherever he was, would be able to free him once he was at Moat Cailin.

"It's better than two defeats." The Stark boy told him before turning around. "Enjoy your time in the north, Kingslayer." The Stark boy soon left, leaving Jaime alone to his thoughts once more.

How was he ever going to see Cersei again? He missed her already and longed to be in her presence again. Cersei needed him and he would not be there for her while he was left to rot in a prison cell. He had to get out of this cell and get back to Cersei. Jaime wished that his father would hurry up and crush the Starks to free him from this cell.

* * *

She had to send a raven to Brynden before she left for Bitterbridge to treat with King Renly. Robb would not thank her for it, but she had to warn Brynden that Robb had sent Theon Greyjoy to treat with his lord father, Balon Greyjoy. The Greyjoys could not be trusted, especially Balon, and if given the chance, Catelyn had no doubt that he would seize the opportunity to crown himself again. There would be nothing to stop him when his only son and heir was returned to him. The man could not be trusted and Catelyn knew that her second son also believed that the Greyjoys were untrustworthy.

Not for the first time, Catelyn wished that Robb had decided to send someone else to treat with Renly, yet it had been her idea in the first place. She had no choice but to leave for Bitterbridge, as much as she wanted to stay by her father's side. It was her last night at Riverrun before she left, but all she wanted was to go north to where Brynden, Bran, and Rickon were. Robb had promised her that when she returned, he would let her return north after she had completed her task. "I can't send anyone else," Robb had told her.

On the morrow she would be leaving for Bitterbridge while the Greatjon would be escorting the Kingslayer to Moat Cailin. Robb planned to keep the Kingslayer as far away from Lord Karstark as possible, for the man was still filled with vengeance after the deaths of his sons by the Kingslayer's hands. If all went well, Renly would be their ally against Tywin Lannister and the man would have no choice but to leave the walls of Harrenhal to face the new threat and this war would soon be over. She couldn't help but wonder what Robb planned to do in the meantime. She knew that her son planned to march, but it was not to Harrenhal. Catelyn just prayed that her son would be safe wherever he planned to go.

Making her way to the central keep where her father lay dying, she passed through the godswood, with its grass and wildflowers and thick stands of elm and redwood. Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun, lay abed in his solar, with its commanding view to the east where the rivers Tumblestone and Red Fork met beyond the walls of his castle. Had her father been well, Catelyn was certain he would have gone to treat with Renly himself.

"Minisa," her father called her, "where are the children? My little Cat, my sweet Lysa." He did not even recognize her. It was hard for Catelyn to see her father in this state. Not long ago when Robb had lifted the siege of Riverrun did her father recognize her when she had come to see him. It would only get worse, Maester Vyman had told her. Her father was not long for this world and Catelyn just prayed that he would still be here when she returned from her task.

"Wait for me, my lord," she said as his eyes closed. "I waited for you, oh, so many times. Now you must wait for me."

Maester Vyman soon entered the solar, and bowed when he saw her. "Forgive me for intruding, my lady."

"It's fine, Maester Vyman," Catelyn assured him. "I was just getting ready to leave." She had to finish writing her letter to Brynden and she had one more to write for Bran and Rickon. She missed her sons deeply, but Robb needed her even more. This alliance with Renly could be the key to winning the war against the Lannisters. "Take care of him, Maester Vyman." She added as she looked back at her father.

"I always do, my lady." The maester walked over to her father and gave him dreamwine and milk of the poppy to help him sleep.

Leaving the solar, Catelyn made her way to her chambers to finish her letters. Once she was inside, she finished Brynden's letter, warning him to be on alert and to watch for any longships in the west. They had to be ready in case the Greyjoys did not accept Robb's alliance. Like Robb, Catelyn was certain that Brynden kept outriders on patrol, even if they were in the north. From what Robb had told her, Brynden still had over sixteen thousand men from the seventeen thousand he had marched with against Tywin Lannister. She couldn't help but be proud that her son had kept casualties in his army low, despite who he had gone up against. Ned would also be proud of their sons if he were here with them.

The next morning, Catelyn had gotten up a dawn to get ready for the long ride south. She would have a strong escort to see her safely to Renly. Robb had given her twenty of his best, and five lordlings as well, whose names and high birth would add weight and honor to her mission. Catelyn watched as she said farewell to Robb as the Greatjon rode out with an escort of three hundred strong to see the Kingslayer made it safely to Moat Cailin. The Kingslayer would be in Brynden's hands now while he held Moat Cailin against any who tried to attack the north.

Hoping to convince Robb to send someone else, she begged him for one last time in the hopes that he would send someone else. "My place is here with my father, for whatever time he has left."

Her son had looked at her unhappily. "I told you before, there is no one else. I cannot go myself and Brynden is at Moat Cailin, leagues from here. The Blackfish is my eyes and ears, I dare not lose him. Your father's too ill and your brother will hold Riverrun when we march."

"There must be someone else you can send to treat with Renly."

"As I have said before, mother, there is no one else. Now, will you go to Renly for me, or must I call the Greatjon back and send him instead?"

Robb knew how ill-suited a man like Greatjon Umber would be to treat with a man like Renly Baratheon, and he knew that she knew it as well. She had no choice but to accept the task Robb had given her. Catelyn said her farewell to her son and rode out to meet with this King in the South.

* * *

It was hard for Brynden to believe that a man like Roose Bolton was getting married. He didn't know whether to be sorry or happy for the poor girl who was to be Lord Bolton's bride. Brynden hadn't known the man for very long, but one thing was for certain about the man, it was difficult to tell what Lord Bolton was thinking. He was just glad that the man was going to the Twins for Lord Bolton's pale eyes unnerved him whenever he was in his presence. The way he talked was also frightening, and the man rarely raised his voice, causing all who were listening to fall silent as he spoke.

The Freys would also be accompanying Lord Bolton, bringing Brynden's forces down from sixteen thousand men to ten thousand. To replenish the men he was losing, Ser Helman Tallhart would be returning from the Twins with the garrison Robb had left behind when they had split from the Crossing. He hoped that the strength he had would be enough to hold Moat Cailin from any invaders. In Ser Helman's place, Lord Bolton would remain behind at the

Twins to ensure the loyalty of House Frey. Brynden was certain that Lord Bolton's forces would be more than enough to keep the Freys in line.

"You will send word when the Kingslayer has crossed the Twins?" Brynden asked Lord Bolton. Robb's and his mother's raven had arrived from Riverrun and Brynden was pleased when Robb had agreed to send the Kingslayer to Moat Cailin. Riverrun may be safe for now, but Brynden knew it was not wise to keep such a valuable prisoner so close to their enemies. Lord Tywin would have to smash his army against Moat Cailin if he hoped to free his son from imprisonment. The Kingslayer would not be walking free anytime soon, not while he held Moat Cailin.

"I will, my prince." Lord Bolton promised.

Prince, it was still strange for Brynden to be addressed as one, no matter how many times he heard it. He could never have imagined that he would become a prince and Robb would become the King in the North and from what Brynden was hearing now from the river lords, Robb was also hailed as the King of the Trident. No longer would they accept the rule of a southron king, the boy king had seen to that when he had their father executed. The Kings in the North would rise once more and Brynden would do whatever it took to help his brother secure their new kingdom.

"Good, then I wish you a safe journey, my lord."

"Thank you, my prince." Lord Bolton bowed and made his way over to where his men and the Freys were waiting. The flayed man of Bolton and the twin towers of Frey flapped in the wind on high standards. Elmar was going with them and Brynden didn't want to admit it, but he was going to miss the lad. He had served him well on the Green Fork and had done whatever was asked of him. The lad still didn't know what he was getting into with his betrothal to his younger sister.

A warhorn sounded and Brynden stood on the battlements as he watched the Boltons and the Freys file out onto the causeway. It was like watching a giant serpent slither through the gates as the long column of men marched, with their banners flapping in the wind. Brynden wished that he could go with them, as an excuse to see his brother and mother again, but his place was here. The Kingslayer would soon be his responsibility and it would be up to him to keep their prisoner secured.

Once the Boltons and the Freys had marched out of sight, Brynden made his way back to his solar. Out in the yards, archers were firing at practice butts to the call of "Notch, draw, loose." Guardsmen patrolled the area, always on alert. Despite how secure they were at Moat Cailin, Brynden kept his men busy by drilling them everyday, making sure that their senses were sharp and they were ready for anything. One always had to be ready for anything, no matter how safe you felt you were.

"My prince," Ser Wylis Manderly greeted him as he approached the Gatehouse Tower.

"Ser Wylis," Brynden greeted back, nodding his head as he entered the tower. As he made his way up to his solar, Brynden wondered how long he would be here. He wanted to make the Lannisters pay for what they had done, but he wouldn't be getting any revenge while he was stuck in the north. He wanted to shed the blood of his enemies as Robb was doing in the riverlands, but Robb had no orders for him to march.

It didn't help that his mother wanted him to be looking out to the west. Brynden still couldn't believe that Robb had sent Theon Greyjoy, their only hostage to keep the Greyjoys in line, to treat with Balon Greyjoy. What was his brother thinking? Robb could have sent anyone else, but instead he chose the one person he never should have sent. He was grateful that mother had warned him about Robb's decision, but doubted that Robb was aware their mother had informed him. Robb had always seen Theon Greyjoy as a close friend and brother, and had let his emotions get the better of him, sending their most valuable hostage back to the Greyjoys.

Brynden cursed his brother for sending Theon back to the Iron Islands. Robb was a fool to have believed that Theon would be able to secure them an alliance with the Greyjoys. Did he not remember that it was because of the Greyjoys their father had left to go to war? Anything could have happened to their father while he was away fighting the Ironborn. He still remembered when their father had returned home from the war with Theon, and Brynden had the sense to see that the Greyjoy was nothing more than a hostage against Lord Balon if he tried anything.

Entering his solar, Brynden smiled as Shadow came padding over to greet him. He ruffled his wolf's fur and made his way over to where his Valyrian steel dagger was. Picking it up, he admired the pommel the blacksmith had made for him. A hunk of onyx had been carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf's head, with chips of amber set into the eyes. The smooth dragonbone hilt of the dagger was wrapped in virgin leather, soft and black. He still had yet to name the dagger and had spent most of his free time since his return to Moat Cailin, coming up with names for the dagger.

Placing the dagger back onto the display, Brynden sat down and examined the map of the north. Though Brynden doubted it, he and his mother could be wrong about Theon and he would succeed in securing an alliance with the Ironborn. There was also the alternative that Theon would betray them and Balon Greyjoy would crown himself King of the Iron Islands and refuse their alliance. If Theon did betray them, they had no ships at sea to counter them, not since Brandon the Burner had burned down the fleet in the north after his father was lost in the Sunset Sea. Brynden had always wondered why they had never rebuilt the fleet.

If they hoped to secede their kingdom from the rule of the Iron Throne, they needed a fleet. They no longer would be able to rely on the Royal Fleet, the Redwyne Fleet, the Lannister fleet, or the Iron Fleet, once they broke away from the Iron Throne. They needed their own fleet, one stationed on the west and east coasts of their lands.

Taking a break from the map, Brynden got up and walked over to the window of his solar, looking up at the sky to where the faint red line of the comet traced a path across the deep blue sky. He had never seen anything like it before and wondered what it meant. Are you seeing this as well, Mother, Robb? He had heard the men talk about the comet and some of what he had heard about the comet was ridiculous. There was one though that Brynden agreed with and that it had been sent by the old gods, a red flag of vengeance for his father. Whatever the comet meant, Brynden found it to be mesmerizing and doubted he would see one like it again in his lifetime.

Looking away from the window, Brynden made his way over to his bed and sat down. His bed felt empty now that Ros was no longer here. She had refused his offer to accompany him south and told him that she was going to King's Landing. Realizing that he needed to get some sleep, Brynden knew that he would need it for the morrow.

A few days had passed before a raven from the Twins had arrived, informing Brynden that Ser Helman Tallhart was on his way with the Kingslayer. Knowing how valuable the Kingslayer was, Brynden sent outriders to ensure there was no chance of an ambush waiting to free the prisoner. Even this far up north, Brynden would take no chances. Lord Tywin Lannister may be at Harrenhal, but Brynden doubted that would stop him from seizing the opportunity to free his son if he learned that he was being transferred. The Lannisters were fortunate that Brynden had the sense to not execute the Kingslayer. The man was worth more to them alive than dead.

Slinging Ice over his shoulder and strapping his dagger to his belt, Brynden made his way outside to greet the prisoner with Shadow by his side. Shouts could be heard as the gates were opened and Brynden grinned as Ser Helman rode in with the Kingslayer chained to the saddle on his own horse. The man had certainly seen better days and did not at all look like the warrior he had seen when he had arrived at Winterfell. Brynden approached them as Ser Helman dismounted from his horse.

"My prince," Ser Helman knelt while the prisoner was brought before them.

"Rise, Ser Helman." Brynden responded. "I trust that your journey went well?"

"The Kingslayer tried to escape a couple of times, my prince. Other than that, our journey was fine." Ser Helman replied.

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from the Kingslayer." Brynden smirked as he turned his attention to the Kingslayer. "Welcome to Moat Cailin, Ser Jaime. It's not much right now, but give it a few years and no southron lord would dare attack this fortress. You won't be leaving here anytime soon."

"You must have a lot of faith in this ruin. I wonder how long it will be before my father defeats your brother in battle. When he's through with your brother, he won't stop until your entire house is wiped from existence." Even in this situation, the Kingslayer believed that he was safe.

"And if that happens, you won't live long to see it, Kingslayer." Brynden shot back. Two can play at your game. "Maybe I'll send some piece of you back to your father as a message. You're a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, I doubt that you will need your cock." He grinned as the other northerners laughed while the Kingslayer shut his mouth. "Take him to his cell and make certain that he is guarded day and night."

"Come along, Kingslayer!" Some of the guards shouted as they shoved him forward. Shadow snapped at the Kingslayer's legs, causing him to jump to the side. The guards laughed as they led him away.

"There is something else you must know about, my prince," Ser Helman told him as the rest of the men dispersed.

"What is it?"

"A raven arrived at the Twins before I left. It was from Stannis Baratheon." Now that was a name that Brynden had not expected to hear.

"What was it about?"

"Stannis Baratheon has laid claim to the Iron Throne and has proclaimed King Robert's children as bastards born of incest."

Brynden was shocked at what he had heard and looked over at the Kingslayer as he was led to his cell. "Tell me more about this letter inside."

* * *

For ten years Theon had waited to come back to Pyke, but this was not at all the kind of welcoming he had been expecting. His uncle Aeron was not at all the man he had once been, his lord father treated him like he was a Stark more than an Ironborn, and Asha had stolen his rightful place as his father's heir. This was not the home he remembered as he made his way to his father's solar. None of them believed that he was a true Ironborn, as if ten years with the wolves could make him a Stark.

Theon chose plain boots and plainer clothes, somber shades of black and grey to fit his mood. No ornament; he had nothing bought with iron. I might have taken something off that wildling I killed to save Bran Stark, but he had nothing worth the taking. That's my cursed luck, I kill the poor.

His father was a fool to have dismissed Robb's alliance. It was because of the animosity his father had for the Starks from their involvement in his failed rebellion, believing that it was because of Ned Stark his brother had been put to the sword. Ned Stark had killed neither of his brothers, in truth. Rodrik had been slain by Lord Jason Mallister at Seagard, Maron crushed in the collapse of the old south tower, but Stark would have done for them just as

quick had the tide of the battle chanced to sweep them together.

After the war, Lord Eddard had raised him among his own children, but Theon had never been one of them. The whole castle, from Lady Stark to the lowliest kitchen scullion, knew he was hostage to his father's good behavior, and treated him accordingly. Lord Eddard had tried to play the father from time to time, but to Theon he had always remained the man who'd brought blood and fire to Pyke and taken him from his home. As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's stern face and great dark sword. His wife and second son Brynden, if anything, even more distant and suspicious.

Brynden Stark had the right of it, Theon supposed. He was right not to trust him for Theon would have done the same if they were in different positions. It still didn't make it right. No matter how hard he had tried to prove himself, he never had the Stark's approval. In the Whispering Wood and the Wolfswood, Theon still felt like he had never truly belonged with the Starks.

Crossing the bride of rope and wood to the Sea Tower, Theon reached a door made of grey wood studded with iron, and Theon found it barred from the inside. He hammered on it with a fist, and after a moment the door was opened from within by a guard in a black iron breastplate and pothelm. "You've been expected." The man told him and stood aside.

Theon climbed the twisting steps to the solar. He found his father seated beside a brazier, beneath a robe of musty sealskins that covered him foot to chin. Victarion was talking of tides and winds when Theon entered, but Lord Balon waved him silent. "Victarion, you know what you must do. I will speak with Theon alone."

"I will head out at once with the Iron Fleet." Victarion bowed and made his across the room and gave a look to Theon before exiting the solar.

When they were alone, his father turned his attention to him. "We have had a bird from Old Wyk. Dagmer is bringing the Drumms and Stonehouses. If the god grants us good winds, we will sail when they arrive or you will. I mean for you to strike the first blow, Theon. Even though I had planned for Dagmer to lead the attack. You shall take eight longships north-"

"Eight?" His face reddened. "What can I hope to accomplish with only eight longships?"

"You are to harry the Stony Shore, raiding the fishing villages and sinking any ships you chance to meet. It may be that you will draw some of the northern lords out from behind their stone walls. Aeron will accompany you, and Dagmer Cleftjaw."

"What of uncle Victarion and Asha?" He hated being left in the dark. It also infuriated him that he was being sent to do reaver's work, burning fishermen out of their hovels and raping their ugly daughters, and yet it seemed Lord Balon did not trust him sufficiently to do even that much. Bad enough to have to suffer the Damphair's scowls and chidings. With Dagmer Cleftjaw along as well, his command would be purely nominal.

"They have already been informed of their tasks. Your sister will take thirty longships of picked men round Sea Dragon Point and take Deepwood Motte. Victarion will sail up the Saltspear and Fever River and capture Moat Cailin. That is all you need to know for now."

He couldn't believe the task that his father had given him. His sister and uncle would be taking a castle and fortress while Theon was left to do reaver's work. The only thing he could do was accept the task his father had given him, but no matter what it took, Theon would prove to his father that he was a true Ironborn.

* * *

 **So as you may have noticed while reading, I'm trying to come up with a name for Brynden's new Valyrian steel dagger. I'm looking for names that have to do with a wolf, like Longclaw. If you guys have any suggestions, let me know.**

 **Next chapter will feature the battle between Brynden's forces and Victarion's.**

 **No real questions to answer in the reviews, but to answer Shadowwolf1997's request, the Ironborn will have a similar fate as to what Theon Stark did to the Andal invaders.**


	7. The Wolf and the Kraken

**This is my first time writing a medieval battle, so go easy on me. I could have just skipped over it like what GRRM sometimes does, but decided not to.**

 **Shoutout to new reviewers: Freakdogsflare, Williams1996, guests, WarBible, Kusics, Captain Fuckew McHugerage, iitrnr, and War Sage, and to returning reviewers: jean d'arc and Nipplegunz. Thanks for your support.**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

His mother was right to have warned Brynden about Theon Greyjoy being sent to Pyke. When he got his hands on that traitorous squid, he would make him wish that he had never betrayed them. Robb was a fool to have sent Theon to treat with Balon Greyjoy. Outriders had spotted the longships of the Iron Islands with their kraken banners sailing into Blazewater Bay and had reported back with the news. If they were sailing into Blazewater Bay, their target had to be Moat Cailin, Brynden was certain of it. What other purpose would they have by sailing into Blazewater Bay?

Surrounded by Stark bannermen, Brynden studied the map of the north while the other lords argued about what course of action they should take. One thing was for certain, Brynden would not sit back and wait to see what the Ironborn planned to do. If Theon was among those Ironborn, Brynden would make sure that he met a truly gruesome death for betraying their cause. Robb had put his trust in the wrong person and now it was up to Brynden to clean up his brother's mess. Not for the first time, Brynden cursed his brother for sending Theon to Pyke and Roose Bolton leaving for the Twins. He could use the six thousand men the Freys and the Boltons had taken with them to the Twins about right now.

"We should fortify our defenses here. Moat Cailin has stood against hosts larger than the Iron Fleet." Lord Cerwyn argued. If they were attacking from the south. Brynden doubted the Ironborn would be dumb enough to attack from the south when they could attack from the north. They had been focused on repairing the defenses to the south that they had left their northern defenses in a state of ruin. Brynden had never expected any attack from the north as he was focused on Tywin Lannister's army in the south.

"I will not sit back and wait for the enemy to come to us." Brynden said. "These Ironborn are on our turf, we will take the fight to them." Most of the lords voiced their agreement while Lord Cerwyn clearly did not approve of his decision. "Besides, Moat Cailin only has its defenses set up for an assault from the south, not the north. Only a fool would attack Moat Cailin from the south. The Ironborn know that, we know that, and that is why they will attack us from the north."

"Their ships were seen sailing into Blazewater Bay," Ser Helman pointed out. "They will most likely land their ships close to Moat Cailin to begin their attack. We should attack them as they land their ships onto the shorelines."

"The squids won't know what hit them when we sound the attack." Robett Glover agreed. "They'll be vulnerable as they are disembarking. I doubt they even know we are aware of their approach."

"I still think that we should wait for them to come to us." Lord Cerwyn said.

"You'd have to be a fool to miss an opportunity like this to strike the Ironborn. This time it will be them who will be taken by surprise." Robett Glover roared.

"The Ironborn have also delivered their ships to our doorstep." Brynden cut in. "I want their ships spared and captured for use in our own fleet. The Ironborn won't know what hit them when we attack the Iron Islands with their own ships."

Brynden would not let this chance slip through his fingers. With the ships of the Iron Fleet in their control, the Kings in the North would have power at sea once more. When they were through throwing the Ironborn back into the sea, Brynden would lead their new ships onto the Iron Islands and wipe them out once and for all. He would show no mercy to those who dared attack the North. He would not make the same mistake King Robert Baratheon had made with pardoning them.

"Those ships will be as good as ours when we are through with the Ironborn scum," Ser Helman said.

"I want our men ready to march," Brynden announced. "Have our outriders find out where the Ironborn plan on docking their ships. It's time that we fought a real battle, men!"

"Stark! Stark!" His men cheered, eager for battle. Was this how Robb and his men felt before they fell on the Kingslayer and his men in the Riverlands? This was to be his first real battle, as the massacre on the Green Fork had been more of a diversion than a battle in Brynden's mind. He would not lose this one for Moat Cailin was Robb's only way of getting back into the north.

Once his men dispersed to get their army ready to march, Brynden headed back to his solar to grab Ice and his dagger. Shadow was waiting for him as he entered the solar. Brynden could tell that his wolf was also eager to go into battle. Slinging Ice over his shoulder and strapping his dagger to his belt, Brynden smiled at his wolf. "Time for us to go and kill some squids, boy."

Donning his armor, Brynden headed outside, as his men were getting ready for battle. His own personal guard fell in behind him as he made his way to the dungeons. He had one visit to make before he rode out to war. "Wait outside," Brynden told his men before making his way to the cell where the Kingslayer was being held.

"What's with all of the commotion?" The Kingslayer asked as Brynden entered his cell. To make certain that his prisoner did not try to escape, Brynden had the Kingslayer chained completely from head to toe. He was not going to take any chances with this man. Jaime Lannister had been allowed no razor since the night he was taken in the Whispering Wood, and a shaggy beard covered his face, once so like the queen's. Glinting gold in the lamplight, the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains. His unwashed hair fell to his shoulders in ropes and tangles, the clothes were rotting on his body, his face was pale and wasted and even so, the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.

"If you must know, we are heading out into battle."

A spark of hope glimmered in the Kingslayer's eyes. "Is it against my father?"

"No," Brynden told him bluntly. There was no point in lying to the man who was chained completely to a wall. From what he had heard from Robb, Tywin Lannister was still at Harrenhal.

"Then why are you here?"

"To inform you about Stannis Baratheon's claim to the crown."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I heard about it from one of your guards."

"But do you know why he has laid claim to the crown?"

"I could care less about the man's reasons."

Unless it had to do with your family, if what Stannis Baratheon had claimed was true. Brynden still found it hard to believe that King Robert's children were bastards born of incest. Only the Targaryens had practiced incestuous couplings, and they all knew how that had turned out for them.

"If you must know why, Stannis Baratheon has sent ravens to all the great lords of Westeros. That King Joffrey Baratheon is neither a true king nor a true Baratheon." Brynden paused for a moment to let those words sink in. "He's your bastard son."

Brynden was disappointed when he didn't get any reaction from the Kingslayer. "Well if that's true, Stannis is the rightful king, how convenient for him."

They were interrupted by Smalljon Umber as he came over to the cell. "Apologies, my prince, but the men are ready to march."

"Then I'd best not keep them waiting," Brynden said, turning around and heading out of the cell with Smalljon. He left the Kingslayer to rot in his cell as he made his way back outside. Once back outside, Brynden approached Ser Helman Tallhart as he was ordering archers to the battlements. A hundred of their best archers would remain behind to guard Moat Cailin. "Ser Helman," he called out.

"My prince," Ser Helman greeted, bowing.

"I leave you in command of our defenses while we are away and double the guards around Jaime Lannister. Protect Moat Cailin and our prisoner at all costs." He did not plan on losing, but if they did, Ser Helman would be all that stood in the way of the Ironborn should they attack Moat Cailin.

"I will not let you down and good luck, my prince."

"Let us hope that we are the ones who will emerge victorious from this battle." With Shadow by his side along with his guards, Brynden headed to the front of the lines and mounted his horse. He only hoped that the outriders would return soon to report to them the location of the Iron Fleet. If the Ironborn were still in Blazewater Bay, they could be sailing up to Torrhen's Square, Barrowton, or the Fever River. Brynden doubted that the first two were their targets as it was the Iron Fleet; the only choice left was the Fever River, which was only twenty miles from Moat Cailin.

With a strong host at his back, they marched from Moat Cailin, ready to shed the blood of their sworn enemies. It was not long before the outriders under the command of Ser Kyle Condon rode back to join their host. "The Ironborn do not know we are aware of their approach," Ser Kyle told him. "They are sailing up the Fever River as we speak, my prince."

"How large is their host?" Brynden asked.

"Over a hundred ships, and at least ten thousand men. They did not seem to have that many cavalry. If the Ironborn plan to attack Moat Cailin, they will dock their ships at the headwaters of the Fever River."

"So we have about the same amount of men," said Lord Cerwyn.

"But we have the advantage," Robett Glover pointed out. "The Ironborn scum aren't even aware that we are marching on them. All it will take is one strike to rout them out as they are disembarking."

"How many men can we slip past their lines?" Brynden asked. He didn't want any of the ships of the Iron Fleet to escape while they were launching their attack. If they captured the ones that were farther back than the others, they would be able to block the rest from escaping back into the Sunset Sea. It would all be for naught if word reached the Iron Islands that the Iron Fleet had been defeated.

"A thousand men at best, my prince," Ser Kyle replied.

"Good, they'll slip in from behind those fuckers and descend on their ships. They are to kill every single crewmember on board. Show no mercy to these Ironborn scum!"

"Stark! Stark!" His men cheered.

Ser Kyle bowed his head. "I will see to it at once, my prince."

"Let's go kill some squids!" Brynden roared and his men roared back in agreement. Shadow lifted his head and howled.

Before long they were marching again and Robett Glover marched ahead with his thousand men to where the Fever River ended, and wait for the sound of their attack. Brynden had left Ser Kyle in command of their outriders to screen their movements as they marched onto the Iron Fleet. Though Brynden would have preferred to spill Lannister blood, he would have to make do with the Ironborn at his doorstep. If his planned worked, not only would they have defeated the Iron Fleet, they would have power at sea once more. If Theon was among the Ironborn attacking them, Brynden would have to thank him for giving them their ships before taking his head. His brother might have failed at securing an alliance with the Iron Islands, but their attack on Moat Cailin had given Brynden the opportunity to seize their ships for their own use.

Brynden would show no mercy to the Ironborn scum. They would all be put to the sword for attacking the north.

* * *

The Iron Fleet had landed amongst the reeds and willows of the Fever River, just as Victarion's brother had ordered him to, twenty miles from Moat Cailin. The Neck was the key to the kingdom, and once they took it, the wolf pups would not be able to win back the north. They dropped anchor at the headwaters of the Fever River. He buckled on his swordbelt as they prepared to disembark, his longsword rested on one hip, a dirk upon the other. Nute the Barber fastened the Lord Captain's cloak about his shoulders. It was made of nine layers of cloth-of-gold, sewn in the shape of the kraken of Greyjoy, arms dangling to his boots. Beneath he wore heavy grey chainmail over boiled black leather.

Victarion donned a tall black warhelm, wrought in the shape of an iron kraken, its arms coiled down around his cheeks to meet beneath his jaw. "Lower the boats. It is time that we went ashore."

Soon, it was only a matter of time before they captured Moat Cailin and the north would be under Ironborn control. Victarion would not fail his brother this time. He had lost only once before against Stannis Baratheon and Victarion vowed that it would not happen again. The wolf pup was in the south and would be unable to retaliate when Moat Cailin fell into his hands. The other northern lords would soon fall or surrender one after the other when they realized their king would not be able to help them.

The Drowned God was watching over him and would lead him to victory against the northmen. Their boat soon made it ashore and Victarion turned around and waited for his other captains to follow as more boats were lowered from the other ships and began making their way ashore. They had made good timing reaching their destination and Victarion would use the cover of darkness to his advantage when he attacked Moat Cailin. He doubted the northerners guarding the fortress would put up much of a fight against them.

Victarion soon summoned his captains for a war council while their men continued to arrive ashore from the fleet. Red Ralf Stonehouse, Ralf Kenning, Ralph the Limper, and his other captains arrived to plan their attack.

"I want outriders sent out to make certain that our way to Moat Cailin is clear," Victarion told them. Even if they had the element of surprise, Victarion wasn't going to take any chances because he did not trust his nephew Theon. The boy had been with the wolves just as long as he had been with the Ironborn, but his brother had entrusted his plan to capture the north to his son as if he had always been an Ironborn. He didn't like it, but it wasn't Victarion's place to argue with his brother.

His brother had commanded him to capture Moat Cailin and hold it against the northmen, and he would do just that. The only thing he needed to be focused on at the moment was accomplishing the task his brother had given him. Nothing would stop him from helping his brother accomplish his dream of becoming King of the Iron Islands and returning the Ironborn back to the Old Way.

"I will see to it at once," Red Ralf said, bowing before leaving the meeting.

Victarion looked at the rest of his captains. They were all eager to spill some blood and show that they were true Ironborn. "What is dead can never die," he said.

"But rises again, harder and stronger." His captains responded before returning to the tasks of forming up their men.

It was a while later before Red Ralph returned, with a solemn look on his face. "Lord Captain," he greeted and Victarion noticed he was holding a sack in his hands.

"What is it?"

"Our outriders," Red Ralph replied, throwing the sack onto the ground and the heads of their outriders rolled out of them.

"Impossible," Victarion seethed. "Have our men get ready for battle. It appears that we are about to have company."

AHooooooooooooooooooooooo, a warhorn cried, long and low, a sound to curdle blood, and then he heard the howl of a wolf. The war cry of the north, Victarion cursed as he headed outside while Red Ralph went to get their men into formation. Screams and shouting came from the ships on the Fever River and Victarion turned to see as the crews left on the ships were fighting against northmen. They were waiting for us to leave our ships, Victarion realized as more northmen poured in from the woods, howling.

Unsheathing his axe, Victarion roared as he met his enemy head on, beheading one of the northmen with his axe before raising his shield as a hiss of arrows fell down on him and his Ironborn. Those of his men who were not ready for an attack were riddled with arrows. Damn you, Theon, Victarion cursed as he slew another one of his foes. It had to have been his nephew. He had to get his men to form a shield wall if they hoped to have a chance to win this battle.

"SHIELDS!" Victarion roared, but all around him, his men were busy fighting their foes as their enemy slowly surrounded them. He spotted Red Ralph hacking at his foes as they continued to swarm him.

He then heard the sounds of hooves in the distant and Victarion cursed as a cavalry of northmen emerged from the woods with lances and swords in hand. "STARK! WINTERFELL!" The northmen screamed as they charged and wheeled then charged and wheeled again, chopping his Ironborn to pieces as they tried to form up a shield wall.

This was not how it was supposed to be, Victarion thought as he swung his axe down on a northerner's head then pulled it out as blood gushed out of the man's head. It was them who were supposed to have the element of surprise, not the northerners. He took out his dirk and slammed it into the neck of one of his foes while beheading another with his axe. If he was to go down today, Victarion would make sure that he took the commander of these northerners with him.

Even amongst all this chaos, Victarion would not rest until he met the commander of his foes. Victarion roared as he hacked down two more northmen with his axe, cleaving their heads right off of their bodies. How many of them were even left? He took a second to look behind him and to his fury, he saw his men being forced into the river as their lines broke against the northern cavalry. On the river, his ships were being captured instead of being burned as the crews left onboard were being slaughtered.

Looking back around, Victarion had no time to react as a great big black beast with dark golden eyes fell on him and knocked his weapons out of his hands. "LEAVE HIM TO ME!" A voice called out and the beast that had attacked him left him on the ground.

As the screams of his men and the howls of the wolves echoed around him, Victarion struggled to get up as he looked up at his foe. A black knight approached him, but even in the darkness, with the moonlight shining down on them, he could tell that the greatsword his foe wielded was Valyrian steel. I have failed you, brother, Victarion thought as his foe stopped before him.

"That's Victarion Greyjoy," one of the wolves behind the black knight said while he heard the growl of the black beast that had attacked him.

"He won't be for long," the black knight said as he raised his great dark sword over Victarion. "Tell your Drowned God that Brynden Stark of Winterfell sent you to his halls." The flash of black ripples was the last thing Victarion saw.

* * *

"Blackwolf! Blackwolf! Stark! Stark! BLACKWOLF! STARK!"

So this was what victory felt like. Brynden grinned as he raised the head of the Lord Captain Victarion Greyjoy into the air. His men cheered while war horns sounded and Shadow howled with them. On the Fever River, Brynden saw the men he had sent to capture the ships, waving the banners of House Stark on the decks of the ships while tossing the bodies of the Ironborn overboard. Even from afar, he could hear them all chanting his name and the Blackwolf, as some had taken to calling him after the battle. Along the shorelines were the bodies of the Ironborn that had fought to the last man against the cavalry charge.

Brynden liked the name they had given him. Brynden the Blackwolf, it reminded him of his own namesake's nickname, Ser Brynden the Blackfish. It felt good to have finally won his first battle. Was this how Robb had felt in the Whispering Wood and at the Camps? He wished that Robb could have been here to witness his victory, but he was still in the riverlands, fighting against the Lannisters to secure their new kingdom. Though Brynden had not forgiven Robb for sending Theon back to Pyke, it was because of his blunder that they now had their own fleet to use as they wished.

It would not be long before news of this battle spread across the north. With the Iron Fleet now under their control, they now had one of three most powerful fleets of Westeros to command. Brynden was no sailor or captain, but he was certain that White Harbor had men capable of commanding their new ships. He would have to send a raven to Lord Manderly to ask for sailors. They would need them for when Brynden planned to attack the Iron Islands in retaliation for their attempted attack on Moat Cailin. Robb would also need to be informed of his battle against the Ironborn on the Fever River. Hopefully then, Robb would realize that he never should have trusted or befriended Theon Greyjoy when he learned of what happened here.

Even with the taste of victory in the air, Brynden couldn't help but wonder how many men they had lost in the battle. He was certain that the Ironborn had suffered the most when they had attacked for they had not been expecting the northerners to attack them. It had been Ser Kyle's idea to send the heads of the Ironborn outriders back to their camp before beginning the attack.

With his guards falling into line behind him, Brynden made his way over to where his fellow commanders were. "A fine victory, my prince," Robett Glover congratulated as he joined them with Shadow by his side. "I hear that you took the head of the Lord Captain after the battle. He would have made a fine prisoner to be used against Balon Greyjoy."

"I meant what I said when we were to take no prisoners," Brynden told him. "Highborn or lowborn, they were Ironborn, and deserved to be put down like dogs when they decided to attack us." The Lannisters would share the same fate if Brynden ever got the chance to face them in battle. Until they no longer had any use for the Kingslayer, Brynden would have to let him live until Robb decided otherwise.

"Of course, my prince," Robett bowed. "I meant no disrespect."

"No matter," Brynden waved off. "How many men did we lose?"

"We are still counting our losses, my prince," Ser Kyle said, "but so far they number over a thousand. Lord Cerwyn and Hornwood are among them."

"Lord Hornwood's son perished in the Whispering Woods if I recall," Brynden frowned. Lord Hornwood had been distraught when he had learned the news of his son's death. Now that Lord Hornwood had followed his son to the grave, Brynden wondered who was next in the line of succession to succeed him as the Lord of the Hornwood. "Do we know who will succeed Lord Hornwood?"

"Lord Hornwood has another son, my prince, a bastard," Robett Glover told him. "He is being fostered at Deepwood Motte."

"A bastard cannot inherit unless he is legitimized by a royal decree," Brynden pointed out. He knew all about bastards and their rights during his time spent with Jon Snow and his mother. Yet Robb was now their king and he had the power to legitimize Lord Hornwood's bastard. "Still, I will ask Robb to consider legitimizing Lord Hornwood's bastard when I have the chance."

"Thank you, my prince," Robett bowed.

"What should we do with the ships that are now under our control?" Ser Wylis asked. "It would not be wise to leave them here on the Fever River, so far south."

"We shall sail them to Deepwood Motte," Brynden replied. "It is close to the sea and we can anchor the ships around the Bay of Ice." He would have considered Seagard, but with the riverlands overrun with Lannisters, he didn't want to take chance of their ships being either burned or captured by their foes if they decided to attack Seagard. Their ships would be much safer in the north where there wasn't much fighting going on. "I want a raven sent to Ser Helman and inform him to escort our prisoner to the Fever River."

"You do not want to leave him at Moat Cailin?" Robett asked and Brynden shook his head.

"I want to keep our prisoner as far away from the south as possible. Moat Cailin may be secured, but it would not be wise to keep the Kingslayer in one place for too long."

"As you say, my prince," Ser Kyle said. "I will send some riders to Moat Cailin to escort the prisoner here."

"See to it at once, Ser Kyle," Brynden told him. "Once we have our men loaded onto the ships, we will set sail for Deepwood Motte." Ser Kyle bowed and left the tent. "The rest of you are dismissed." He looked at his guards and nodded his head. "That means you as well."

"My prince," they bowed their heads and left along with his bannermen.

Once he was alone with Shadow, Brynden smiled at his wolf as Shadow padded over to him and rested his head on his lap. "You did well out there," he told his wolf while scratching his ear. Shadow's presence in the battle had caused the horses on the Ironborn's side to go wild when Brynden had set him loose on their lines. The darkness had been the perfect cover for Shadow to strike fear into the enemy lines.

A while later, Brynden was onboard one of the ships along with their prisoner as they prepared to set sail into the Sunset Sea. They would have to take it slowly for they didn't have many experienced sailors in their army. When they reached Deepwood Motte, Brynden would have to remind himself to send a raven to Lord Manderly, asking for sailors and captains. Brynden smiled as they set off down the Fever River. For the first time since Brandon the Burner, the north had strength at sea once more.

* * *

 **So yeah, this was probably a short battle, but it's because it's my first time doing a medieval battle. Sorry for taking so long to update, but I just had to write something else because I was stuck on writing Victarion's POV that showed the battle. Anyway, let me know what you guys thought of the battle, good or bad, because I know it wasn't that great in my mind. I'll definitely need to work on my battle writing skills, so hopefully my future battles will be a lot better than this one.**

 **Reviews**

 **War Sage: Roose is probably wary of Brynden at the moment because Brynden is more cautious, cunning, and ruthless than Robb is.**

 **jean d'arc: Oh, Brynden is definitely ready now for the Ironborn**

 **WarBible: Lol thanks for the information, but I frequent ASOIAF wikia so much while I'm writing that I already knew all of that. And for this battle, I gave the Iron Fleet 10,000 men after reading some of the forums about their strength.**

 **Thanks for all the suggestions so far for Brynden's dagger. Still trying to think of something, but one that I might choose that I came up after reading some of your suggestions is Blackhowl. Still not sure about it as I'm certain that I can come up with a better name than that.**


	8. Wolf in the Night

**Shoutout to new reviewers: Gravio, Robertmc99, decemberbeszt, JacktheBlacky, Hiei-Uchiha, guests, and to returning reviewer: iitrnr**

 **As always, enjoy and review.**

* * *

"The King in the North! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

His men chanted as Robb made his way through the camp while they celebrated his victory at Oxcross, with Grey Wind by his side. It was moments like these that Robb wished Brynden was here with him to relish the taste of victory, but his brother was holding Moat Cailin with a host of ten thousand men at his back. Brynden had made the right call to fortify the defenses of Moat Cailin instead of remaining at the causeway. Robb knew his brother would rather be here shedding the blood of the Lannisters with him, but Brynden was the only one he trusted to hold the north against their enemies.

Brynden had always been the better warrior than Robb, and right now Robb needed his skill to defend the north while he was fighting in the west. Just as Lord Tywin Lannister had done to the riverlands, Robb was going to raid the westerlands, and pay them back in kind for the damage the Lannisters had done to the riverlands. Hopefully that would get Lord Tywin's attention and force him to leave the walls of Harrenhal and take to the field if he did not want to be seen as weak by his bannermen.

"My first rule of war is to never give the enemy his wish," the Blackfish had told Robb before he had decided to attack the westerlands instead of Harrenhal, leaving his uncle Edmure in command of Riverrun. If his attack in the west did not work then hopefully his mother would be able to secure an alliance with King Renly Baratheon and lure Lord Tywin out of Harrenhal when he marched onto King's Landing. From what the Blackfish's scouts had reported, King Renly had a host of a hundred thousand men at his back, all from the reach and the stormlands. Sooner or later, Lord Tywin would have to make a move, and when he did, Robb would be ready for him.

With the second Lannister host under Ser Stafford Lannister destroyed, there was no real force left in the westerlands to oppose Robb and his men now. Should Theon manage to secure an alliance with Lord Balon Greyjoy, Robb would be able to use the Iron Fleet to attack Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Brynden would not be pleased with his decision when he learned that Robb had sent Theon to Pyke, but Robb trusted Theon and knew that he would not fail him.

Robb could understand why his brother despised Theon, even when Father had first brought the heir to the Iron Islands to Winterfell after Greyjoy's Rebellion, Brynden had instantly taken a disliking to Theon. Brynden had disliked Theon simply because he was an Ironborn, the people responsible for forcing their Father to go to war, and had never taken the time to get to know him like Robb had. Brynden would always voice his disapproval when he saw how close Robb was with Theon. Robb hoped that when this war was over, Brynden would see that Theon was different from the other Ironborn their Father had fought against in Greyjoy's Rebellion.

"Your Grace."

Robb turned around to see who had addressed him and saw that it was Lord Rickard Karstark. The man had been filled with grief ever since the deaths of his sons, Eddard and Torrhen. The Lord of Karhold had not at all been pleased when Robb had decided to send the Kingslayer to Moat Cailin, but was relieved when he had learned that his eldest son and heir, Harrion was alive and well.

"What is it?" Robb asked.

"What should we do with the prisoners we captured during the battle?" Even with the knowledge of his eldest son's wellbeing, Robb could tell that Lord Rickard still hungered for more Lannister blood. During the battle of Oxcross, Lord Rickard had slain Ser Stafford Lannister while he was running after his horse.

"We'll send them to Seagard and from there Lord Mallister will send them to Moat Cailin." They had taken many highborn hostages after the battle: Ser Lymond Vikary, Lord Roland Crakehall, Lord Antario Jast, Martyn Lannister, and a half hundred more. Robb doubted he would be able to trade any of them for Sansa or Arya, but they could become useful should any of his commanders be captured in battle. Brynden would not like it, but his brother had made a point when he told them their prisoners would be more secured if they were in the north than the riverlands.

"Understood," Lord Rickard bowed and took his leave.

Robb turned around and continued down the path to his tent, with Grey Wind trailing behind him. Robb owed this victory to Grey Wind, for it had been his wolf that had discovered a secret goat path, letting them slip past the Golden Tooth and into the westerlands undetected. With the Blackfish and his outrider's aid, they had struck Ser Stafford's host in the night. Now more than ever, Robb was certain the Old Gods had sent the direwolves to him and his siblings as their guardians. He would not have won this victory had it not been for Grey Wind.

The flap of the tent opened and Robb looked over as the Blackfish entered. "Your Grace, pardon the intrusion, but you told me to come to you when I found out where the remnants of Ser Stafford's host had fled to."

"It's alright, uncle," Robb said, setting down his crown, the crown once worn by the Kings of Winter, forged by his grandfather's smith. "Where have they fled to?"

"My scouts reported they have fled to Lannisport, Your Grace, though I doubt they will be much of a threat. Other than Casterly Rock and Lannisport, the other castles are lightly defended. We won't meet much resistance here now that Ser Stafford's host has been destroyed."

"I'll inform my bannermen of the news. Continue to screen our movements and scout ahead. Should Lord Tywin decide to march west, I want us to have a position where we can ambush his army."

"I will see to it at once," the Blackfish bowed and left the tent.

It would not be wise to stay in one place for too long and Robb knew they would need to march again. His bannermen had made him their king, and he would be a good king to them, as honorable as Father, strong, just, loyal to his friends and brave when he faced his enemies. Robb just hoped that Theon and his mother managed to secure an alliance with Lord Balon or King Renly.

* * *

There was no turning back now. Theon had made his choice when he had decided to serve his father and prove that he was a true Ironborn. I am a Greyjoy, not a Stark, Theon had told himself after he had displayed the headless bodies of the children before the castle. Old Nan stood with her soft toothless mouth opening and closing soundlessly, and Farlen threw himself at Theon, snarling like one of his hounds. Urzen and Cadwyl had to beat him senseless with the butts of their spears. How did I come to this? he remembered thinking as he stood over the fly-speckled bodies.

He had restless sleeps ever since, his dreams always filled with nightmares. Bran and Rickon had given him no choice, Theon told himself, as they had been unable to find them after losing their trail. Let the rest of them believe they were dead, but Theon knew the truth. Theon was still not at all pleased with his sister Asha when she had brought only twenty men with her. How did she expect him to hold Winterfell with only this lot, Theon had asked his sister.

"Ten," Asha corrected. "The others return with me. You wouldn't want your own sweet sister to brave the dangers of the wood without an escort, would you? There are direwolves prowling the dark." She uncoiled from the great stone seat and rose to her feet. "Come, let us go somewhere we can speak more privily."

"Dagmer's lost the fight at Torrhen's Square—" Theon blurted out as they made their way to Ned Stark's solar.

"The old castellan broke his shield wall, yes," Asha said calmly. "What did you expect? This Ser Rodrik knows the land intimately, as the Cleftjaw does not, and many of the northmen were mounted. The ironborn lack the discipline to stand a charge of armored horse. Dagmer lives, be grateful for that much. He's leading the survivors back toward the Stony Shore."

She knows more than I do, Theon realized. That only made him angrier. "The victory has given Leobald Tallhart the courage to come out from behind his walls and join Ser Rodrik. And I've had reports that Lord Manderly has sent a dozen barges upriver packed with knights, warhorses, and siege engines. The Umbers are gathering beyond the Last River as well. I'll have an army at my gates before the moon turns, and you bring me only ten men?"

"You'll have more than that soon enough when Brynden Stark learns what you have done," Asha told him.

Brynden Stark? Why did Theon have to worry about a Stark who was at the Twins? "Why should I worry about Brynden Stark?"

"You didn't hear? Brynden Stark has defeated our uncle on the Fever River and has captured the Iron Fleet."

"How?" Theon had not worried about Brynden Stark when he had heard about his host travelling to the Twins with Lord Bolton before he had left for Seagard with Lord Mallister and his son. It had to have been Brynden's doing that Theon did not know about his true whereabouts.

"The Blackwolf fell on our uncle as they disembarked from their ships. The only way Brynden Stark could have known about our uncle's attack was if he had sent outriders to the west," Asha sighed. "With Moat Cailin still in the Stark's control, it will not be long before he sets his eyes on Winterfell and Deepwood Motte. And with your folly with the Stark boys, I have no doubt he will be marching onto Winterfell with the intent of taking your head, Theon. If only you'd had the good sense to raze the castle and carry the two little princelings back to Pyke as hostages, you might have won the war in a stroke, and we wouldn't be in this situation."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? To see my prize reduced to ruins and ashes."

"Your prize will be the doom of you. Krakens rise from the sea, Theon, or did you forget that during your years among the wolves? Our strength is in our longships. Deepwood Motte sits close enough to the sea for supplies and fresh men to reach me whenever they are needful. But Winterfell is hundreds of leagues inland, ringed by woods, hills, and hostile holdfasts and castles. And every man in a thousand leagues is your enemy now, make no mistake. You made certain of that when you mounted those heads on your gatehouse." Asha shook her head. "How could you be such a bloody fool? Children . . . "

"They defied me!" he shouted in her face. "And it was blood for blood besides, two sons of Eddard Stark to pay for Rodrik and Maron." The words tumbled out heedlessly, but Theon knew at once that his father would approve. "I've laid my brothers' ghosts to rest."

"Our brothers," Asha reminded him, with a half smile that suggested she took his talk of vengeance well salted. "Did you bring their ghosts from Pyke, brother? And here I thought they haunted only Father."

"When has a maid ever understood a man's need for revenge?" Even if his father did not appreciate the gift of Winterfell, he must approve of Theon avenging his brothers!

Asha snorted back a laugh. "This Ser Rodrik and Brynden Stark may well feel the same manly need, did you think of that? You are blood of my blood, Theon, whatever else you may be. For the sake of the mother who bore us both, return to Deepwood Motte with me. Put Winterfell to the torch and fall back while you still can."

"No." Theon adjusted his crown. "I took this castle and I mean to hold it."

His sister looked at him a long time. "Then hold it you shall," she said, "for the rest of your life." She sighed. "I say it tastes like folly, but what would a shy maid know of such things?" At the door she gave him one last mocking smile. "You ought to know, that's the ugliest crown I've ever laid eyes on. Did you make it yourself?"

She left him fuming, and lingered no longer than was needful to feed and water her horses. Half the men she'd brought returned with her as threatened, riding out the same Hunter's Gate that Bran and Rickon had used for their escape. Theon watched them go from atop the wall. As his sister vanished into the mists of the wolfswood he found himself wondering why he had not listened and gone with her. Theon knew how much Brynden Stark disliked him and if he did learn what he had done, Theon doubted that even Winterfell would be able to protect him from his fury.

* * *

They had come across eight longships near the Stony Shore as they were sailing up to Deepwood Motte. Brynden could not remember who had been more surprised when their forces had clashed on the sea, his northmen or the Ironborn. Their numbers were few while Brynden had eight thousand men and the decks of their ships were loaded with scorpions and spitfires. They had overwhelmed the Ironborn with superior numbers, but this time, Brynden had decided to capture some of them to find out why they were here. Moat Cailin had been where the Ironborn first planned to attack, but he had no idea why there were more Ironborn ships off their coasts and he planned to find out what they were doing here.

Keeping their ships anchored off the Stony Shore, Brynden kept their prisoners chained on the coast to watch as he planted the heads of the Ironborn he had fought on the Fever River off the shorelines, just as his ancestor King Theon Stark had done to deter future invaders. He saved the head of Victarion Greyjoy for last, enjoying the looks of despair on his captives as they saw the head of their Lord Captain. "Don't worry, you'll be next," Brynden told them once they were done. "But first, I want some answers."

"You will get none from us," said a tall and thin man, with fierce black eyes and a beak of a nose, garbed in mottled robes of green and grey and blue, the swirling colors of the Drowned God. A water skin hung under his arm on a leather strap, and ropes of dried seaweed were braided through his waist-long black hair and untrimmed beard.

Shadow barred his teeth and prowled around the prisoners. Ser Kyle Condon stood beside Brynden. Ever since Lord Cerwyn's death, Ser Kyle had become Brynden's right hand man and commander of his outriders. "I say we just kill them all and be done with them, my prince." Ser Kyle looked at Shadow and smiled. "Or we could always feed them to your wolf."

"My wolf deserves better than squid," Brynden told Ser Kyle while the captives gave a fearful look to Shadow as he growled at them. "Still, it's not a bad idea. Why give them a quick death when we can watch as my wolf slowly eats them alive." Brynden unsheathed Ice for his prisoners to see. "This was the sword that killed your Lord Captain. Tell me what your purpose here is and I will give you a quick death. If not, I'll feed you one by one to my wolf."

Several of the prisoners looked at each other while the one who had spoken remained calm despite the situation they were in. Should none of them speak, Brynden would make certain that man would be the first he would feed to Shadow. He was in no mood to wait, as he needed to find a secure spot to anchor his ships in the north. When none of them spoke, Brynden frowned and sheathed Ice. "Bring the priest forward," Brynden ordered.

Before his guards stepped forward, a shout called out to them and Brynden turned around as a rider urged his horse toward them. "Summon the prince!" he called.

"I am here," Brynden announced as he approached the rider, motioning for his guards to stand down.

"My prince." The rider spurred his mount closer. "Several of our outriders have reported seeing Ironborn fleeing toward our position."

"Do they know where they were fleeing from?"

"Torrhen's Square, my prince."

Reavers, Brynden realized as he looked back at their prisoners. It was no wonder they were so few in numbers when Brynden and his men fell on them. They must have been waiting for their fellow Ironborn to return from their raid, not expecting that an entire northern fleet would chance upon them. Then again, Brynden couldn't help but feel there was a reason they were here other than reaving after the Battle on the Fever River. They would never have dared attacked the north unless they knew about the Iron Fleet's assault on Moat Cailin. Still, why attack Moat Cailin and send reavers to raid the coastlines?

"How many men did you see?" Brynden asked.

"Fifty," the rider replied.

Brynden turned to Ser Kyle. "Send out our riders to greet them and slaughter them all, no prisoners."

"It will be done, my prince," Ser Kyle bowed and took his leave.

"What should we do with this lot?" Smalljon Umber asked, towering over the prisoners.

"Behead them and place their heads on spikes along with the rest," Brynden replied. "That ought to send a message to any future Ironborn raiders who decide to attack our lands."

Smalljon grinned. "I'll see to it at once."

Brynden left Smalljon to the beheading while heading back to where the boats were aligned on the shorelines, with Shadow trailing behind him. Not for the first time, Brynden wondered if his father would approve of the way he treated his prisoners. He doubted he would, but Father was not here, and it was up to him to decide the fate of the Ironborn he captured. Every Ironborn that he had killed, Brynden had treated them like they were a Lannister, taking his frustration and anger out on them. Why did he have to clean up the mess that Robb had caused? It should be Robb ridding the north of the Ironborn, not him. Brynden didn't even know where his brother was or what he was even doing.

Had it not been for their mother warning Brynden about Theon being sent to Pyke, he doubted he would even be here on the Stony Shore. Where are you, Theon? Brynden was certain Theon had betrayed them, yet Theon was not on the Fever River or the Stony Shore. Theon had betrayed them, but he was too craven to show himself. If he wasn't in the north, Brynden would sail the Sunset Sea if he had to and raze the Iron Islands to find Theon. Wherever you are, Theon, I will find you and have you answer for your crimes.

Together, with Shadow and his guards, they clambered into a boat and made their way back to where their ships were anchored. It had been the Ironborn's unlucky day that Brynden had fell on them, but Brynden still couldn't shake the feeling they were there for a reason. The bulk of the Ironborn force was gone and their ships captured, but why would there be raiders on the Stony Shore? He knew he was overthinking it and decided to focus his attention on getting their new fleet to Deepwood Motte.

"Welcome back, my prince," Robett Glover greeted as Brynden boarded the ship with his guards and Shadow. "I trust the Ironborn are taken care of?"

"Their heads are now on display on our shorelines," Brynden told him.

"Where is Ser Kyle?"

"Leading our cavalry against a small force of raiders that had attacked Torrhen's Square. They will be dealt with soon enough and Ser Kyle will return to the ship. Once he returns, we set sail for Deepwood Motte. You will get to see your family again soon."

"Aye, Gawen and Erena," Robett smiled. "I have you to thank for that, my prince."

"Thank the new fleet we have," Brynden said. "Had the Iron Fleet not attacked, we'd most likely still be at Moat Cailin, waiting for orders from our king."

"You wish you were fighting alongside your brother, don't you?"

"Aye, I do. I had wanted our first battle to be together, but Robb decided to send me off to fight against Lord Tywin Lannister. He could have chosen a more experienced commander to face Lord Tywin, but he chose me." It had been the Whispering Woods and the Camps, Brynden had wanted to fight in with his brother, not the massacre and being left to guard Moat Cailin against their enemies. He was born to be a warrior like Jon, not a battle commander like Robb and their Father.

"You're his brother, that's why he chose you to lead the other host." Brynden remembered back at Winterfell when Robett had demanded the honor of battle command with a smile and a jest. It felt like so long ago when they had been fighting for their father's freedom and now they were fighting to break away from the rule of the Iron Throne.

"Doesn't mean that I have to like it," Brynden muttered.

There were times when Brynden often wondered if things had been different had Robb decided to capture Lord Tywin instead of the Kingslayer. They could have ended the war in one strike if they had committed all of their forces on Lord Tywin. Robb had chosen the more cautious route, but even with the Kingslayer as their prisoner did not stop Lord Tywin from continuing his attacks against them. Lord Tywin was the true power of House Lannister, not the Kingslayer.

"We all have to do things sometimes we don't like," Robett told him.

"I know," Brynden sighed. "How fares our prisoner anyway?"

"We give him food and water when he needs it, but most of the time we keep him chained to the wall and guarded day and night. The Kingslayer would have to be a fool if he tried to escape onboard a ship in this condition."

"He wouldn't be the first," Brynden muttered, remembering Bittersteel. Ser Aegor Rivers, a bastard of King Aegon the Unworthy had been sent to the Wall to join the Night's Watch, but his ship had been intercepted, returning the man back to the Golden Company. Had it been up to Brynden, he would have executed the man then and there.

"I doubt he'll get the chance," Robett chuckled.

"My prince."

Brynden recognized the voice belonged to Harrion Karstark and turned his attention onto him. "What is it?"

"Ser Kyle has returned and all the Ironborn that had fled Torrhen's Square are dead. We did not lose any men in the encounter."

"Good. Once Ser Kyle and his men are onboard, we set sail for Deepwood Motte. We've wasted enough time here."

"As you command," Harrion bowed and took his leave.

"Leave me, Robett. I wish to spend some time alone." Brynden ordered.

"Of course, my prince," Robett bowed and left Brynden alone on the deck of the ship.

Once their ships were safely anchored off Deepwood Motte, Brynden planned to go to Winterfell afterward. It would be good to see Bran and Rickon again. He was certain they would be surprised when they saw him. Bran would want to hear stories about what he had seen in the south and Shadow would be reunited with his littermates Summer and Shaggydog. He knew Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik would not want him to leave when he returned. As Robb's heir, Brynden would become the Prince of Winterfell. It was a title he knew would not last for long after Robb was wed.

Brynden smiled at the thought of Robb having to marry one of those Frey girls. Robb had certainly not been happy after their mother had told him he would have to marry one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters. Brynden was just glad their mother had not arranged a betrothal for him. A second son was not as tempting to marry as the firstborn for which Brynden was glad Lord Frey had not betrothed him to any of his daughters. Sooner or later, though, Brynden knew he would have to marry. He just hoped that it wouldn't be anytime soon.

After the last of their men returned, they resumed their course for Deepwood Motte. Brynden remained in his cabin with Shadow for most of the journey when calls for battle were heard outside. What is going on? Brynden burst out of his cabin as men were rushing to arm the scorpions and spitfires. "Robett, what's happening?" Brynden shouted.

"Ironborn ships, my prince, off the coast of Deepwood Motte." Robett shouted back.

"More of them," Brynden growled as he went to arm himself. Looks like he had another battle to win before he saw Bran and Rickon again.

* * *

Damn her brother, Asha cursed not for the first time as she rode through the wolfswood with her men back to Deepwood Motte. Could he not see that the north was lost now that the north still held Moat Cailin? If Moat Cailin was still held by the north, Asha knew it was only a matter of time before the Starks learned about the captures of Deepwood Motte and Winterfell. If Brynden Stark was still in command, she had no doubt he would be leading his men to retake Winterfell, giving Asha the time to prepare for an attack.

It was then she heard the sound of a warhorn and a wolf howling. Something was not right. She turned to Rolfe the Dwarf and Roggon Rustbeard, her best riders, who had come with her to Winterfell. "Scout ahead and make sure our way is clear. I want no surprises when we reach Deepwood Motte. If you come on wolves, ride back to me with word."

"If we must," promised Roggon through his huge red beard. Now she was only left with seven riders as they resumed their march.

A while later, something flew from the brush to land with a soft thump in their midst, bumping and bouncing. It was round and dark and wet, with long hair that whipped about it as it rolled. When it came to rest amongst the roots of an oak, Grimtongue said, "Rolfe the Dwarf's not so tall as he once was."

Then the trees erupted all around them, and the northmen poured in howling. Wolves, she thought, they howl like bloody wolves. The war cry of the north. Her ironborn screamed back at them, and the fight began.

The first man to come at Asha Greyjoy died at her feet with her throwing axe between his eyes. That gave her respite enough to slip her shield onto her arm. "To me! " she called, but whether she was calling to her own men or the foes even Asha could not have said for certain. A northman with an axe loomed up before her, swinging with both hands as he howled in wordless fury. Asha raised her shield to block his blow, then shoved in close to gut him with her dirk. His howling took on a different tone as he fell. She spun and found another wolf behind her, and slashed him across the brow beneath his helm. His own cut caught her below the breast, but her mail turned it, so she drove the point of her dirk into his throat and left him to drown in his own blood. A hand seized her hair, but short as it was he could not get a good enough grip to wrench her head back. Asha slammed her boot heel down onto his instep and wrenched loose when he cried out in pain. By the time she turned the man was down and dying, still clutching a handful of her hair. Qarl stood over him, with his long-sword dripping and moonlight shining in his eyes.

Grimtongue was counting the northmen as he killed them, calling out, "Four," as one went down and, "Five," a heartbeat later. "Seven," shouted Grimtongue, but beside him Lorren Longaxe sprawled with one leg twisted under him, and the wolves kept on coming, shouting and rustling.

Asha pushed her dirk into a northman's chest through fur and wool and boiled leather. His face was so close to hers that she could smell the sour stench of his breath, and his hand was at her throat. Asha felt iron scraping against bone as her point slid over a rib. Then the man shuddered and died. When she let go of him, she was so weak she almost fell on top of him.

Later, she stood back-to-back with Qarl, listening to the grunts and curses all around them, to brave men crawling through the shadows weeping for their mothers. A wolf drove at her with a spear long enough to punch through her belly and Qarl's back as well, pinning them together as they died. Better that than die alone, she thought, but her cousin Quenton killed the spearman before he reached her. A heartbeat later another wolf killed Quenton, driving an axe into the base of his skull.

Behind her Grimtongue shouted, "Nine, and damn you all."

Somewhere in the ebb and flow of battle, Asha lost Qarl, lost Tris, lost all of them. Her dirk was gone as well, and all her throwing axes; instead she had a sword in hand, a short sword with a broad thick blade, almost like a butcher's cleaver. For her life she could not have said where she had gotten it. Her arm ached, her mouth tasted of blood, her legs were trembling, and shafts of pale dawn light were slanting through the trees. Has it been so long?

How long have we been fighting?

Her last foe was a northman with an axe, a big man bald and bearded, clad in a byrnie of patched and rusted mail that could only mean he was a chief or champion. He was not pleased to find himself fighting a woman. "Cunt! " he roared each time he struck at her, his spittle dampening her cheeks. "Cunt! Cunt!"

Asha wanted to shout back at him, but her throat was so dry she could do no more than grunt. His axe was shivering her shield, cracking the wood on the downswing, tearing off long pale splinters when he wrenched it back. Soon she would have only a tangle of kindling on her arm. She backed away and shook free of the ruined shield, then backed away some more and danced left and right and left again to avoid the downrushing axe. And then her back came up hard against a tree, and she could dance no more. The wolf raised the axe above his head to split her head in two. Asha tried to slip to her right, but her feet were tangled in some roots, trapping her. She twisted, lost her footing, and the axehead crunched against her temple with a scream of steel on steel. The world went red and black and red again. Pain crackled up her leg like lightning, and far away she heard her northman say, "You bloody cunt," as he lifted up his axe for the blow that would finish her.

A wolf howled in the distant.

That' s wrong, she thought. There are no wolves in the Drowned God' s watery halls. Below the waves the merlings hail their lord by blowing into seashells. She dreamt of a black wolf with dark golden eyes emerging from the woods.

* * *

 **Yeah, I know I took most of Asha's part from A Dance with Dragons and put them in this section. Don't worry, I don't plan on killing Asha off anytime soon.**

 **Reviews**

 **Robertmc99: It is actually possible for the Ironborn to have cavalry and horses on their ships. Remember, Theon had a horse he got from the Iron Islands and brought it with him to Winterfell when he captured it. So yeah, it is possible for the Ironborn to transport horses by longship, just not a whole lot of them.**

 **decemberbeszt: Arya's and Sansa's plotlines are mostly the same, so I don't really see any point in doing a POV for them unless there is a really big change Brynden has done that affects their plotline.**

 **JackTheBlacky: I usually only answer reviews from the last chapter I posted, but I'll answer yours anyway. Ser Helman Tallhart is in command of Moat Cailin with a thousand men holding the fortress.**

 **Guest: Obviously you never saw the pairing for this story. No, Brynden will not be marrying a Frey, especially Amerei. As Daven Lannister once said, "** **Gatehouse Ami, gods be good. I couldn't believe that Lancel picked that one. What's wrong with that boy?"**


	9. Homecoming

**Here is the final chapter of the second book. I had planned for there to be five like the last one, but decided to end the second book with four chapters. I just realized that if you focus writing mainly on one story line, you can breeze through the books pretty quickly. Next book though we will see some stuff in the south because of the changes Brynden's presence has made.  
**

 **Shoutout to new reviewers: thaux, C.E.W, onyxhaider98, chase manaena, Master of Dragons God, Sceonn, idrinkstellaartois123, Blaze1992, zarkan, and to returning reviewers: War Sage, iitrnr, Vandal, and guests.**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

The prince's host departed Deepwood Motte by the light of a golden dawn, uncoiling from behind the log palisades like a long, steel serpent emerging from its nest, leaving Asha's captured ships and those of the Iron Fleet taken from the Fever River behind, anchored on the tidal flats to the north of Deepwood, where Asha had landed before capturing the castle.

Pike men, archers, great masses of men-at-arms on foot, and a thousand lancers and mounted bowmen, rode out with their Blackwolf, clad in furs and boiled leather and old mail. Back of the main column the baggage train followed: mules, horses, oxen, a mile of wayns and carts laden with food, fodder, tents, and other provisions. Last the rear guard – more northern cavalry, with a screening of outriders following half-hidden to make certain no foe could steal up on them unawares. Even in the north, the prince was cautious and took no chances when it came to their march on to Winterfell.

Asha Greyjoy rode in the baggage train, in a covered wayn with two huge iron-rimmed wheels, fettered at wrist and ankle and watched over day and night along with the Kingslayer, though the prince would sometimes bring her into his bed, even though they were enemies. Asha was certain it was because she was Theon's sister, and the prince took pleasure knowing he was fucking Theon's sister. Still, Prince Brynden was taking no chances on his prize escaping captivity and kept her chained to his bed while he had his way with her. He meant to carry her to Winterfell, to display her there in chains for the lords of the north to see, the kraken's daughter bound and broken, proof of his power. Warhorns saw the column on its way. Spear points shone in the light of the rising sun, and all along the verges the grass glistened with the morning frost. Between Deepwood Motte and Winterfell lay one hundred leagues of forest. Three hundred miles as the raven flies. "We should have been at Winterfell by now," some of the northmen told each other.

"Ser Rodrik will take the castle by the time we get there," Asha heard Smalljon Umber complain. He had fought with the Blackwolf on the Green Fork, the Fever River, Stony Shore, and Deepwood Motte. "The Young Wolf would have been at Winterfell's gates by now."

"Brynden is more cautious than Robb Stark," Harrion Karstark defended.

The prince lives in his brother's shadow, Asha thought. Her ankle still gave a stab of pain whenever she tried to put her weight on it. Something was broken down inside, Asha did not doubt. The swelling had gone down at Deepwood, but the pain remained. A sprain would surely have healed by now. Her irons clacked every time she moved. The fetters chafed at her wrists and at her pride. But that was the cost of submission.

"No man has ever died from bending his knee," her father had once told her. "He who kneels may rise again, blade in hand. He who will not kneel stays dead, stiff legs and all." Balon Greyjoy had proved the truth of his own words when his first rebellion failed; the kraken bent the knee to stag and direwolf, only to rise again when Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark were dead.

And so at Deepwood the kraken's daughter had done the same when she was dumped before the prince, bound and limping, though blessedly unraped, her ankle a blaze of pain. "I yield, my prince, I ask only that you spare my men." Only two of her men had survived the wolfswood. Only two remained of the thousand men she had brought with her to conquer Deepwood Motte. Brynden had given her their lives. Yet she sensed no true mercy in the man. He cares not about her people and her life meant little and less to him. She was only his hostage and bed warmer, a prize to show the north that the Ironborn were all but vanquished from the north.

All that remained of the Ironborn in the north were the ones with Theon at Winterfell. From what Asha had heard from the men on the march, Ser Rodrik had returned from Torrhen's Square with two thousand men and had laid siege to the castle. When Brynden Stark joined his forces with Ser Rodrik's, Theon would be facing an army of ten thousand. Her brother was a fool if he believed he would be able to hold Winterfell against a host of that size.

Six days had passed since they had left Deepwood Motte, and here and there they wound their way past familiar landmarks: a stony hill that looked a bit like a wolf's head when seen from a certain angle, a half-frozen waterfall, a natural stone arch bearded with grey-green moss. Asha knew them all. She had come this way before, riding to Winterfell to persuade her brother Theon to abandon his conquest and return with her to the safety of Deepwood Motte. I failed in that as well.

On the seventh day of the march, Asha was brought once more into the prince's bed. If they had not been enemies, Asha would not have minded being his lover for he was a lot better than most of her lovers she had shared her bed with. He sucked her nipples till she cried out half in pain and half in pleasure. He fucked her till she screamed, and then again until she wept, before he finally spent his seed inside her womb.

"How will my brother die?" Asha asked when they were done while Brynden climbed out of bed and poured himself a flagon of wine.

"As much as I would love to behead your brother, I must hold him prisoner until my brother tells me what to do with him."

"And what of me?" How long will you keep me in your bed before you decide you no longer need me to pleasure you?

"You live only because Lady Glover pleaded for me to spare you. You're lucky you're a woman and not a man; otherwise I would not have hesitated to take your life as I did with your uncle. When I am through with your brother and the Iron Islands, you will be the last of the Ironborn, my lady."

* * *

Damn you, Theon, Brynden cursed as his forces arrived at Winterfell. The Winter Town he remembered bustling with people before he and Robb had marched south was in ruins, with bodies littering the streets. He recognized some of the badges of the slain men: the Cerwyn battle-axe, Tallhart trees, mermen from White Harbor, the bull moose of the Hornwoods, Flints, Karstarks, and the direwolves of Stark. How could this have happened? Ser Rodrik had over two thousand men and from what Brynden had been told, Theon had only fifty men holding Winterfell. The catapults and scorpions Ser Rodrik's host had brought with them were torched. "Search for any survivors," Brynden ordered his men as he made his way to the ruined castle that had once been Winterfell, his home.

Shadow trailed behind him as he made his way through the ruins. The great granite walls remained, blackened here and there by fire but otherwise untouched. But within, all was death and destruction. The doors of the Great Hall were charred and smoldering, and inside the rafters had given way and the whole roof had crashed down onto the floor. The green and yellow panes of the glass gardens were all in shards, the trees and fruits and flowers torn up or left exposed to die. Of the stables, made of wood and thatch, nothing remained but ashes, embers, and dead horses. There was a shallow steaming lake beneath the Library Tower, and hot water gushing from a crack in its side. The bridge between the Bell Tower and the rookery had collapsed into the yard below, and Maester Luwin's turret was gone. He saw a dull red glow shining up through the narrow cellar windows beneath the Great Keep, and a second fire still burning in one of the storehouses.

It did not at all feel right to Brynden to see his home in this state. He saw the ruins of Mikken's forge and his mother's sept his father had built for her. He had not at all been a follower of the Faith, instead keeping faith with the old gods, his father's gods. It sickened Brynden as he saw all the damage that had been done to his home. The damage could be repaired, but it would not at all feel like the Winterfell he had lived in for all his life, playing with his siblings and practicing his swordplay in the courtyard. Theon will pay for this, Brynden vowed.

Brynden saw one dog worrying at a corpse, but he ran away when he caught the scent of Shadow; the rest had been slain in the kennels. The maester's ravens were paying court to some of the corpses, while the crows from the broken tower attended others. One charred corpse, outside the ashen shell of

Mother's sept, sat with his arms drawn up and his hands balled into hard black fists, as if to punch anyone who dared approach him. So much death and destruction. Was there no one here that survived? Not for the first time he cursed the distance between Winterfell and Deepwood Motte. Had they arrived here sooner, all of this could have been prevented.

Making his way through the ruin and death, Brynden came across the First Keep, or what remained of it. One whole side of the building had torn loose and fallen away. Stone and shattered gargoyles lay strewn across the yard. Nearby some crows were pecking at a body crushed beneath the tumbled stone, but he lay facedown and Brynden could not say who he was.

The First Keep had not been used for many hundreds of years, but now it was more of a shell than ever. The floors had burned inside it, and all the beams. Where the wall had fallen away, he could see right into the rooms, even into the privy. Yet behind, the broken tower still stood, no more burned than before.

Suddenly he heard a dull rumble and Brynden spun around and saw that it was coming from the door to the crypts. Survivors, Brynden thought as he made his way over with Shadow bounding after him. Still, he did not know if they were friend or foe on the other side and unsheathed Ice as he warily approached the ironwood door. He just hoped that those inside were friends and would know what had happened here. Another shove from the other side shifted the stones and the door was swung open.

To his shock and surprise, Brynden found himself facing his brothers, Bran and Rickon. I'm dreaming, Brynden thought as Ice slipped out of his hands and fell onto the ground. "You're supposed to be dead," he whispered.

"Brynden!" Bran and Rickon cried out in joy as they rushed over to him and threw themselves onto him, knocking him onto the ground. He still could not believe they were alive as he returned their hugs, not wanting to let them go.

"I thought Theon killed you two," Brynden told them, relieved they were real.

"He never found us," Bran explained. "We hid in Father's tomb after I sent the wolves on to make a trail." Bran smiled as Brynden freed him and Rickon from his embrace. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Is mother and Robb here?" Rickon asked, looking at Brynden.

He shook his head. "They are still in the south as far as I know. I've been busy ridding the north of the Ironborn." Brynden smiled and ruffled Rickon's hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner." Brynden looked up at their companions: Hodor, Osha the wildling, and boy and a girl he did not recognize. "Who are your companions?" He nodded at the boy and girl.

"They're Howland Reed's children, Meera and Jojen," Bran introduced. "They came to swear fealty to Robb in their father's place during the harvest feast."

"Thank you for looking after my brothers," Brynden said, and broke off suddenly at a noise behind them.

Two lean dark shapes emerged from behind the broken tower, padding slowly through the rubble. Rickon gave a happy shout of "Shaggy!" and the black direwolf came bounding toward him. Summer advanced more slowly, rubbed his head up against Bran's arm, and licked his face. Shadow greeted his littermates and nipped their ears.

"Who else is here?" Bran asked while scratching Summer's ear.

"Most of the men I marched south with on the Green Fork and men from the mountain clans," Brynden replied. "I sought out their aid and united them under my banner before marching onto Winterfell." A quarrelsome folk they were, and Brynden had ate their bread and salt, drunk their ale, listened to their pipers, praised the beauty of their daughters and courage of their sons, until they all had sworn their swords to his army. Eleven thousand men Brynden now had, and it all had been for nothing. He should have marched onto Winterfell instead of wasting his time with the mountain clans.

"Do you know what happened here?" Brynden asked. "Last I heard from Moat Cailin was that Ser Rodrik was laying siege to Winterfell with two thousand men. How could Theon and his fifty men do all of this?"

"We don't know exactly what happened, but I saw Winterfell burning in my dream," Bran told him much to Brynden's confusion. How could his brother have seen what was going on in his dreams?

"How could you have dreamt of it?"

Before Bran could reply, Summer howled, and darted away. "The godswood." Meera Reed ran after the direwolf, her shield and frog spear to hand.

"Come, let's see what your wolf has picked up," Brynden said as he picked Ice up off the ground and the rest of them trailed after Meera and Summer, threading their way through smoke and fallen stones. The air was sweeter under the trees. A few pines along the edge of the wood had been scorched, but deeper in the damp soil and green wood had defeated the flames.

On the edge of the black pool, beneath the shelter of the heart tree, Maester Luwin lay on his belly in the dirt. A trail of blood twisted back through damp leaves where he had crawled. Summer stood over him, and Brynden thought he was dead at first, but when Meera touched his throat, the maester moaned. "Hodor?" Hodor said mournfully. "Hodor?"

Gently, they eased Luwin onto his back. He had grey eyes and grey hair, and once his robes had been grey as well, but they were darker now where the blood had soaked through. "Brynden," he said softly with a surprised tone and he smiled when he saw Bran and Rickon. "And Bran and Rickon too. The gods are good."

"What happened here?" Brynden asked.

"The Bastard of Bolton did this," Luwin replied, a froth of blood on his lips. When the maester tried to move, he gave a sharp gasp of pain.

"Hold on, I'll get you some help," Brynden pleaded, tears filling his eyes. If the maester had survived for this long, Brynden was certain he would be able to find a maester in his army to help him. He had seen men die before in battle, but none that were close to him like Maester Luwin who had been there all his life.

"No use," said Luwin. "I'm dying."

"You can't," said Rickon angrily. "No you can't." Beside him, Shaggydog bared his teeth and growled.

The maester smiled. "Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can . . . die as I please."

"How could the Bastard of Bolton do all of this? Ser Rodrik had two thousand men," Brynden asked. He would make the bastard pay for what he had done to his home.

"He surprised Ser Rodrik's host with six hundred men," Luwin replied. "Cerwyn boy's dead. Ser Rodrik, Leobald Tallhart, Lady Hornwood . . . all slain."

"I will have him answer for what he has done here," Brynden assured Luwin. "I will not rest until his head is on a spike." He would have the Bastard of Bolton suffer the same fate as the Ironborn. Ser Rodrik killed, Maester Luwin, and everyone he knew was gone because of the bastard. He will avenge them. Not even the Dreadfort would be able to protect the bastard from his wrath.

The maester smiled. "I leave Winterfell… in your hands now. Protect your brothers and remember… there must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

"I will," Brynden vowed, balling his hand into a fist. How many more people was he going to lose before this war ended?

"Don't leave us," Bran begged.

Maester Luwin reached up and grasped Bran's forearm, his fingers closing with a desperate strength. "You must be strong now. Strong."

"I will be," Bran promised.

"Good," the maester said. "Now, leave me with your brother. I wish to speak with him alone."

"Go," Brynden ordered his brothers and the others. Jojen and Meera led Bran and Rickon out. Osha and Hodor followed. When they were gone, Brynden turned his attention back to Maester Luwin. "I can still get you a maester."

"No need…" The maester swallowed. "You know… why I asked for you."

"Aye," Brynden said, with a solemn tone. He had seen his men give the gift of mercy sometimes on the battlefield to soldiers who were past saving. Maester Luwin was right. Brynden was fooling himself if he believed the maester would live if he brought help. "I will not forget your teachings," Brynden told him as he drew his Valyrian steel dagger out from his belt.

"Your father… would be proud of you," Luwin said. Not if he knew what he had done to his enemies and to Asha. "And of your brothers."

Brynden closed his eyes, wishing he didn't have to do this, then opened them and gazed up at the weirwood, at the red face carved in the pale trunk. "Rest now, maester," he whispered as he eased his dagger into the man's chest and watched as the life went out of the maester's eyes. As he slid the blade back out and wiped it on the maester's robes, he closed Luwin's eyes.

Placing the dagger against the moss-covered stone, Brynden unsheathed Ice and sat underneath the weirwood. He closed his eyes and rested his hand over his eyes. Ser Rodrik, Luwin, and everyone he knew was gone, but his brothers. Winterfell and his brothers were now his responsibility so long as Robb was still in the south fighting against the Lannisters. If he hoped to protect them and the north, Brynden would have to be as hard as the land he protected, like the first Kings in the North.

* * *

"Edmure! Tully! Riverrun!" The small folk cheered as her brother rode through the portcullis, the leaping trout of Riverrun waved on a standard. A knot of men stood before the portcullis with Catelyn as it rose in jerks and starts, and in the fields beyond, outside the castle, were several hundred riders.

Despite her brother's return, Catelyn did not share their joy. It was still hard for her to believe that Bran and Rickon were gone, their heads mounted on the walls of Winterfell. Now she had only two sons and her daughters were still captives at King's Landing. She prayed that Brynden showed no mercy to Theon when he took back Winterfell from the Ironborn. If what the tales she had heard of her son were true, Brynden would have Theon's head on a spike before he told Robb he had reclaimed Winterfell. The Blackwolf and the Demon of the North the men and the small folk called her son. Catelyn wondered how much Brynden had changed since she had last seen him at the Twins.

War changes people, Catelyn remembered Ned telling her. They did not always come back the same as they were before. Unlike with Robb, Catelyn was not there for Brynden to comfort him in his grief when they had received news of Ned's death. Her family had lost so much in this war and she wondered if her daughters would follow Bran and Rickon into the grave. Only the Kingslayer would be able to buy her daughters' lives and freedom, but he was held by Brynden in the north, leagues from Riverrun. Neither of her sons would trade the Kingslayer to the Lannisters for the girls. Even if she wrote to Brynden, pleading him to trade the Kingslayer, Catelyn knew it would all be for naught.

Dried red mud spattered Edmure's boots, greaves, and surcoat, as he dismounted from his horse. To look at him, you would never know he had won his battle. He was thin and drawn, with pale cheeks, unkempt beard, and too-bright eyes.

"Edmure," Catelyn said, worried, "you look unwell. Has something happened? Have the Lannisters crossed the river?"

"I threw them back. Lord Tywin, Gregor Clegane, Addam Marbrand, I turned them away. Stannis, though . . . " He grimaced.

"Stannis? What of Stannis?"

"He lost the battle at King's Landing," Edmure said unhappily. "His fleet was burned, his army routed."

A Lannister victory was ill tidings, but Catelyn could not share her brother's obvious dismay. She still had nightmares about the shadow she had seen slide across Renly's tent and the way the blood had come flowing out through the steel of his gorget. "Stannis was no more a friend than Lord Tywin."

"You do not understand. Highgarden has declared for Joffrey. Dorne as well. All the south. Have you heard from Robb or your Brynden?"

"Brynden marches onto Winterfell from Deepwood Motte to join his forces with Ser Rodrik's from Cerwyn. Robb was wounded while storming the Crag. We have had no word since from either of them." It shouldn't have taken this long for Brynden to retake Winterfell from the Ironborn. It was not like her son to be silent for this long. A raven would always arrive from the north a few days after he had fought a battle. Catelyn knew it was a long march between Winterfell and Deepwood Motte, but she hated the wait. Brynden and Robb were the only sons she had left. She did not know what she would do if she lost either of them as well.

"They will be fine, Cat," Edmure assured her, sensing her distress. "Robb has not lost a battle yet, and Brynden has been ridding the north of the Ironborn. It is the Lannisters we should be worrying about now that they have allied with the reach and Dorne."

"We still have the Kingslayer," Catelyn told him.

"Aye, but it will not be long before they decide to attack. With the ships of the Iron Fleet your Brynden captured on the Fever River, Robb may turn his attention onto Lannisport or King's Landing. Your Brynden should have left the task of retaking Winterfell to Ser Rodrik and taken the ships of the Iron Fleet to join Robb's forces in the west."

"My son did what he thought what was the best for the north. So long as Winterfell remains in the hands of the Ironborn, Robb will be seen as weak by our enemies." Catelyn snapped. She wished Brynden had left the task to Ser Rodrik as well, but her son had made up his mind when he had marched from Deepwood Motte after retaking the castle from the Ironborn. "Besides, Brynden does not have any skilled sailors in his army to sail his ships into battle." Brynden had explained as much to her in the letter he had written to her.

"How fares our father?" Edmure asked, changing the subject.

"His condition worsens. Did you know that Lysa was pregnant before she had married Jon Arryn?" Catelyn still couldn't believe her father had forced Lysa to give up the child she was carrying. It all made sense now why Jon Arryn had taken Lysa as his wife, one who was known to be fertile if House Arryn was to continue.

"No, I did not," Edmure replied, surprised by her question. "Why do you ask? Did Father tell you this?"

"No, I figured it out after father kept mentioning Tansy, the blood, and trueborn children," Catelyn replied. "It all makes sense why Jon Arryn had taken Lysa as his wife."

"Gods, is that why Lysa does not respond to our pleas for help? Our father is dying and she does nothing to help us against our enemies. The Others take her." Edmure cursed.

"I sent a raven to her, pleading her to come to Riverrun to make amends with father, but Maester Vyman believes the raven will arrive too late. Will you come with me to see father?"

"Later, after the feast." Edmure told her, walking away to join his men.

Catelyn soon returned to her father's solar, praying that Robb and Brynden were safe. With the Lannisters allied with the Tyrells and Martells, her sons now had all of the south to deal with as enemies. Her daughters held in King's Landing, her only living sons at war, Catelyn wondered if she would ever see her family united again.

* * *

The masons were hard at work repairing the damage that had been done to Winterfell. It would be some time before they would be able to send a message to Riverrun, informing Bran's mother he and Rickon were alive. In the meantime, Bran's brother Brynden had taken over as the Prince of Winterfell, putting men to work to repair the walls while waiting for maesters to arrive from nearby castles to take charge of Luwin's ravens, so messages might be sent and received from here again. Since their reunion, Brynden had not let Bran and Rickon out of his sight, putting his own guards to watch them while he was in meetings and drilling his men.

While Bran hated having guards watching him, he understood why his brother had done it. Brynden did not want to lose his brothers again, having just been reunited with Bran and Rickon after he had believed they were dead. Shadow had also trailed Bran wherever he went, and he had no doubt

Brynden had ordered his wolf to watch them as well. Bran wondered how mother and Robb would react when they learned they were alive and well. It was only a matter of time before Brynden marched onto the Dreadfort to have the Bastard of Bolton answer for his crimes. When he did, Bran would be left at Winterfell alone with Rickon, again.

He wanted to go with Brynden, but his brother would hear none of it. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," Brynden told him. It was just an excuse to keep him from joining his brother in battle. Bran was glad that Jojen and Meera had decided to remain at Winterfell, despite Jojen's urgings he should seek a teacher to teach him how to fly. Why did he need to learn how to fly when he could walk? His brother was home again and he was safe at Winterfell with an army of eleven thousand men guarding the castle.

Bran had heard what Brynden had done to the Ironborn that invaded the north, but didn't mind as much as he should have. The Demon of the North and the Blackwolf his brother was called, and Brynden would entertain Bran and Rickon of his battles on the Fever River and Deepwood Motte. His brother was born to be a warrior and Bran hoped to be like him someday. He doubted he would be as renowned as his brothers Brynden and Robb were though.

Making his way to the stables, Bran saw Hodor helping out with the other stable boys. The Bastard of Bolton had burned the stables when he sacked Winterfell, so his brother had thrown up new ones twice as large as the old, to accommodate the warhorses and palfreys of his lords' bannermen and knights. The stables were not Bran's destination though as he continued onward to where he wanted to be. Bran knew he would find Brynden in the crypts of Winterfell. It was one of the first places his brother had repaired.

The entrance to the crypts was in the oldest section of the castle, near the foot of the First Keep, which had sat unused for hundreds of years. The Bastard of Bolton had put it to the torch when he sacked Winterfell, and much of what had not burned had collapsed. Only a shell remained, but the rubble from the sack had been cleared away. This was where Bran had fallen and Brynden had caught him. It was Shadow and Summer who had led him to Bran, Brynden had told him after he had woken up. The winding stone steps were narrow. His guards, Summer, and Shadow followed behind him in single file.

He had never feared the crypts; they were part of his home and who he was, and he had always known that one day he would lie here too. The ironwood door was already open and Bran led his guards out into a long vaulted tunnel, where mighty granite pillars marched two by two into blackness. These were the old Kings in the North, on their brows they wore stone crowns, and their faces were stern and strong. Their footsteps echoed through the vault as they made their way between the rows of pillars. The stone eyes and the eyes of their stone direwolves followed them.

Only a little further did Bran spot another glowing light as they halted before four tombs closely grouped together. He felt Shadow brush past him as he joined Brynden at their Father's tomb. "What are you doing here, Bran?" Brynden asked as he scratched Shadow's ear. "Don't tell me I have another meeting to attend to. I told them I did not wish to be disturbed."

"There are no meetings," Bran told him. "I just wanted to come down and see father." He joined his brother and looked up at the long-faced, bearded, and solemn face of their father. Hallis Mollen, the captain of the guards had arrived with an escort and a group of silent sisters a few days earlier from Moat Cailin to deliver their father's bones. Brynden had immediately sent for a mason to carve their father's statue before they buried him in the crypt.

Ever since then, while he wasn't busy or watching Bran and Rickon, Brynden would go down to the crypts to see their father. "I still cannot believe he is gone," Brynden muttered. "Father never should have gone south with the king."

"None of us could have known what would happen," Bran told him.

"He still never should have gone," Brynden sighed. "Everything that has happened so far to our family is because our father had gone south. Who could have imagined Robb would be a king and we would be princes."

"I never would have," Bran said.

"As much as I hate to leave you and Rickon here, I must march on the Dreadfort soon. Once the Bastard of Bolton has been dealt with, the north will be safe again."

"Why can't you send someone else?" Bran didn't want his brother to go, not after they had just been reunited, and he knew Rickon would not be pleased to hear their brother was leaving again.

"Because I am a Stark," Brynden replied. "It will not be for long, I promise you. When I am done with the bastard, I will return and remain at Winterfell until we can send ravens again. Robb will want the ships I captured from the Iron Fleet and Lord Manderly will send captains and sailors to command them. Hopefully mother will come back soon and look after you while I join Robb in the south."

"I still don't want you to leave," Bran said.

"Neither do I, but I must."

"What about the Kingslayer and the kraken's daughter?" Bran asked. He had heard the Kingslayer was here and Bran had felt a sense of fear when he had learned about it, though he could not understand why.

"The Kingslayer will remain in the dungeons but Asha will accompany me to the Dreadfort."

"When will you leave?"

"When the repairs to the walls and battlements are finished. I will not make the same mistake Ser Rodrik made. Two thousand men will remain behind while I march on the Dreadfort. You need not worry about being captured again, Bran. You're safe now."

"Just don't take too long."

"I won't, I promise."

* * *

 **I bet you guys all thought Brynden was going to make it on time to stop Ramsay from sacking Winterfell. Well at least Brynden was reunited with Bran and Rickon.**

 **Reviews**

 **thaux: Yeah, not a very realistic battle, but Asha's group was ambushed by outriders, not the full force of Brynden's host as they had just retaken Deepwood Motte from the Ironborn.**

 **War Sage: It takes time for ravens to reach their destination and Robb is in the westerlands while Brynden doesn't even know where his brother is at the moment.**

 **C.E.W: I mean to push the wildling attack back a bit so that when Brynden arrives at the Wall, he will negotiate with Mance instead of attacking him like what Stannis does.  
**

 **Vandal: Brynden only has eight thousand men with him, the other thousand were left at Moat Cailin with Ser Helman.**

 **Onyxhaider98: Yeah, kind of like how King Rickard Stark the Laughing Wolf claimed the Neck by taking the daughter of the Marsh King as his wife.**

 **idrinkstellaartois123: Having Asha as his bed warmer is good enough for Brynden at the moment because he is fucking Theon's sister and Lady Glover pleaded for him to spare her life. It's definitely not chivalrous.  
**

 **Blaze1992: What I meant by was that unless there is a drastic change in their plot line, like with Bran and Catelyn's POV in this chapter, I will write them. For now, Sansa and Arya's are the same but theirs will change in the next book. Not answering the Red Wedding question, but at the moment I doubt Brynden will form an alliance with Dany, and Sansa as a plaything for the Boltons only happens in the show not the books.**


	10. Prince of Winterfell

**Here we are with the first chapter of the third book and oh man, I enjoyed seeing your guys reactions to Brynden having some "fun" with Asha. I found it funny that was the only thing that stood out in the last chapter, especially when it was mostly the guests that were shocked about it, but shoutout to that one guest who pointed out this was no "My little pony" universe.  
**

 **Anyway, shoutouts to new reviewers: el ay rayn, Dipsyy, Culhu31415927, Charles Ceaser, Lilo23 and to returning reviewers: Vandal, Sceonn, War Sage, Master of Dragons God, WarBible, Blaze1992, and guests.  
**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

It had been a few days before maesters had arrived at Winterfell to attend to the ravens. Three of them had entered together by the lord's door behind the dais—one tall, one plump, one very young, but in their robes and chains they were three grey peas from a black pod. Before the war, Medrick had served Lord Hornwood, Rhodry Lord Cerwyn, and young Henly Lord Slate. Bran's brother Brynden had summoned them all to Winterfell to take charge of Luwin's ravens, so messages might be sent and received from here again. Not for the first time, Bran wished that Maester Luwin was still alive, but he was dead along with Ser Rodrik and Brynden had their bodies laid to rest in the lichyard, where the servants of House Stark were buried.

Bran had been present when Brynden had sealed his letter with his own personal seal, a black direwolf, before sending it off to Riverrun, where their mother and Robb would be, informing them of Bran and Rickon's survival and that Winterfell had been retaken, along with Brynden's intentions to march onto the Dreadfort to have the Bastard of Bolton answer for his crimes. With his brother back, Bran no longer had to assume the lord's duties, but when Brynden marched onto the Dreadfort, Bran would have to resume his rule over the castle as the Stark in Winterfell.

The walls and battlements had been mostly repaired since Hallis Mollen had arrived with Father's bones, and they had begun to work on the damages done to the interior. Stout new gates had gone up to replace those that had been burned and the collapsed roof of the Great Hall had been cleared away and a new one raised in its stead. Bran's brother had made certain during the repairs that Winterfell looked as it did before it had been sacked. Many of Brynden's commanders had insisted they march on the Dreadfort at once, but Brynden told them he would not march until his brothers were safe.

Winterfell just no longer felt the same as Bran remembered it. This place was scarred and broken, more ruin than redoubt, a haunt of crows and corpses. The great double curtain wall still stood, for granite does not yield easily to fire, but most of the towers and keeps within were roofless. A few had collapsed. The thatch and timber had been consumed by fire, in whole or in part, and under the shattered panes of the Glass Garden the fruits and vegetables that would have fed the castle were dead and black and frozen. The only part of the castle that had not been damaged during the sack was the godswood.

With all the men that had followed Brynden since the Green Fork occupying Winterfell, Bran was reminded of the time when Robb had summoned the bannermen to Winterfell. The winter houses in the winter town had mostly been repaired and now housed most of Brynden's men. With Ser Rodrik's death and the slaughter of Winterfell's garrison, Brynden had assigned a thousand veterans of the Green Fork, Fever River, and Deepwood Motte as the new garrison of Winterfell while naming Hallis Mollen castellan of Winterfell as well as captain of the guards.

Despite his brother's promises that he would not let him and Rickon out of his sight and would find the time to be with them, Bran had noticed that Brynden had become more and more occupied with his war councils as he prepared to march onto the Dreadfort. Bran hoped his brother did not plan to lay siege to the castle. The last time a Stark had laid siege to the Dreadfort had been when the Boltons had rose up in rebellion against King Harlon Stark, and King Harlon had laid siege to the castle for two years before they had surrendered. He doubted his brother had the time or patience to wait that long while Robb was still fighting in the south.

Brynden seemed half a stranger to Bran now, transformed like Robb, a battle commander in truth, and sixteen, a man grown. It was still hard for Bran to believe it had been a year since he had last seen his brother before he had marched south with Robb. War had melted all the softness from his face and left him hard and lean. He had also grown a beard, but kept his dark brown hair cut short and his cold grey eyes reminded Bran of Father and Jon Snow.

Entering the courtyard with Summer trailing behind him, Bran spotted Brynden as he drilled the new guards while Shadow watched from a distance. Slung on his brother's back was Ice and Bran smiled as Brynden walked over to greet him. Shadow and Summer greeted each other with a nip to the ear as Brynden ruffled his hair. "Ready for some sparring?" Brynden asked.

"Always," Bran replied as Brynden handed Ice to one of his guards before taking a wooden sword.

They had spent most of the day sparring, with Brynden taking over the lessons Ser Rodrik would have taught Bran if he were still alive. "Keep your shield up," Brynden told Bran as he blocked one of his brother's blows. It was moments like these that Bran wished his brother didn't have to go back to war, but he knew Winterfell and the north would not be safe so long as the Bastard of Bolton was still at large.

When they were done sparring, Brynden walked with Bran to his chambers while their wolves followed them. "When do you think mother will be able to come back?" Bran asked.

"Soon," Brynden replied. "When I am done with the Bastard, I plan to march back to Deepwood Motte and take the ships of the Iron Fleet to Seagard and join mother and Robb in the riverlands. Hopefully Robb will let mother return north now that the Ironborn are dealt with. Winterfell will be safe once I am done with the Bastard of Bolton and the Ironborn are no longer a threat with their ships now under our control."

"What about Sansa and Arya?" Bran missed his sisters and he knew that Brynden did as well.

"I don't know," Brynden replied. "All that I know is that we have to win this war if we hope to see them again."

* * *

Was this how a salt wife felt when she was taken against her will in bed with a man who was her captor? Asha didn't know whether to be grateful or not that she was still alive. What would her father think of her when he learned that she was spreading her legs for a greenlander, not to mention a Stark? Brynden Stark was not at all a bad lover, but it didn't feel the same as when she was with Qarl the Maid or any of her other lovers. It didn't help that her captor planned to raze the Iron Islands in retribution for their attempted invasion of the north.

Not for the first time, Asha cursed Theon for his foolishness. Had he just stuck with their father's plan, the Ironborn might still have a hold on the north. She had heard of the victories the Demon of the North had won against her people: the Fever River and the Stony Shore. Her uncle's forces had all been put to the sword and Dagmer's force was smashed. Even her own ship, the Black Wind was now in the hands of the wolves when they had retaken Deepwood Motte from her men.

Asha doubted Brynden Stark would ever consent to marry her, to save her people from his wrath. Her father's rebellion had failed twice and this one would cost them the lives of all of their people. No doubt Brynden would keep her as his mistress when he was done with the Iron Islands. She knew she was only still alive because of her relation to Theon. It would not surprise her if Brynden's plan were to impregnate her, given how many times he had already spilled his seed into her womb. Asha cursed her body for enjoying it whenever he was inside of her, as her loins would always ache when they were done.

Ever since he had learned that his brothers were alive however, Brynden had been a lot more gentle with her once he had learned that her brother was not responsible for sacking Winterfell. He still had not forgiven Theon though for betraying them. Asha wondered where her brother could be, as they had not found his body amongst the dead. Brynden believed that her brother could have taken by the Bastard of Bolton back to the Dreadfort, as they had found the bodies of Ironborn in the courtyard, except for Theon's.

"Your brother lied about your beauty, my lady." Asha turned her gaze to the door as Brynden entered with his wolf. She had learned by now not to threaten Brynden as his wolf seemed to sense when his master was in danger.

"My brother has not seen me for over ten years," Asha told him as he took off his doublet and began to unlace his breeches. "The pimples went when the breasts came." She remembered telling her brother the same thing when he had not recognized her. It had been very amusing for her to see her brother look at her as some woman he could bed and not as his sister.

He certainly was very handsome, Asha thought as she took in his appearance. He was broad of shoulder, with arms thick with muscle, and his hands were callused. Despite the situation she was in, Asha enjoyed the feeling of his hands when Brynden squeezed her breasts while he fucked her. She wondered how he was going to take her this time as Asha preferred to be on top, even though Brynden enjoyed being on top and taking her from behind. Asha had come to accept her fate and had decided not to resist when Brynden wanted to fuck her.

"And now you are mine," Brynden claimed as he climbed into bed with her and pressed his lips against hers. She could feel how hard his shaft was as it pressed against her body while he began to help her take off her clothes. She stroked his cock as her breasts spilled out and were pressed against his chest. His rough hands squeezed her breasts and she was lost in the pleasure as she forgot all of her worries and thought only of the hard manhood she was stroking that would soon be inside of her.

She smiled when Brynden flipped onto his back, his cock hard as a mast. "Whatever happened to you fucking me?" She asked as she mounted him, drawing him so deep inside her that she could not tell who had the cock and who the cunt.

"I thought I'd let you take the lead tonight," Brynden grinned as his hands squeezed her breasts, causing her to moan in pleasure as she began to ride him. "Gods woman," Brynden groaned as Asha swayed back and forth against his shaft, feeling his cock dig against her insides. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up and let me fuck you," Asha hushed as she bent down while she continued to ride him and pressed her lips against his, their tongues tugging on one another, fighting for dominance. Her nipples brushed against his chest as Brynden let go of her breasts and reached around her to squeeze her rear end. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried out as she climaxed. Asha moaned when she felt Brynden's manhood slowly slide in and out of her. "Damn you," Asha cursed, moaning in pleasure.

"Now is that anyway to speak to your captor," Brynden japed, sliding his shaft out of her and flipping Asha onto her side, pressing his chest against her back as he slid his thick manhood back inside her. He began to thrust harder into her, sucking on her neck while he reached over and squeezed one of her breasts along with pinching her nipple.

"Just like that," Asha cried out, feeling Brynden go deeper inside of her as his cock tugged against her walls. She could feel another release coming and could tell that Brynden was also ready as his manhood began to throb inside her. This time they climaxed together and Brynden spilled his seed into her womb.

"I don't think that I will ever grow tired of fucking you," Brynden whispered into her ear while fondling her breast.

For a while they stayed like that in bed, with his cock still inside of her until he pulled out, his seed trickling down her thigh. Brynden lay on his back as Asha crawled on top of him and took him in her mouth. He began to stiffen as the head pressed against the back of her throat, with only half of his manhood inside her. Asha gagged as he climaxed, filling her mouth with his seed and she gulped it all down. By the time she was done, she was wet again and Brynden was hard from watching her.

Asha smiled as Brynden flipped her onto her back and climbed on top of her. "Not bad for a greenlander."

"Keep this up and I doubt we'll ever get any sleep," Brynden smirked before sliding his manhood inside of her.

Asha moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around his body as he began to fuck her harder than before. He fucked her until she cried out in pleasure, and then again until she screamed, before spilling his seed into her womb once more. Asha cursed how quickly Brynden had learned what made her tick, what pleasured her and what didn't. By the time they were done, Brynden had spilled his seed into her womb two more times that night.

* * *

Lord Tywin's chain of hands made a golden glitter against the deep wine velvet of his tunic. The Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan gathered round him as he entered. He greeted each in turn, spoke a quiet word to Varys, kissed the High Septon's ring and Cersei's cheek, clasped the hand of Grand Maester Pycelle, and seated himself in the king's place at the head of the long table, between his daughter and his brother.

Tyrion had claimed Pycelle's old place at the foot, propped up by cushions so he could gaze down the length of the table. Dispossessed, Pycelle had moved up next to Cersei, about as far from the dwarf as he could get without claiming the king's seat. The Grand Maester was a shambling skeleton, leaning heavily on a twisted cane and shaking as he walked, a few white hairs sprouting from his long chicken's neck in place of his once-luxuriant white beard. Tyrion gazed at him without remorse.

The others had to scramble for seats: Lord Mace Tyrell, a heavy, robust man with curling brown hair and a spade-shaped beard well salted with white; Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor, stoop-shouldered and thin, his bald head fringed by tufts of orange hair; Mathis Rowan, Lord of Goldengrove, clean-shaven, stout, and sweating; the High Septon, a frail man with wispy white chin hair. Too many strange faces, Tyrion thought, too many new players. The game changed while I lay rotting in my bed, and no one will tell me the rules.

"Shall we begin with the wedding arrangements?" Cersei asked as Lord Tywin took his seat.

"No," their father said. "With the war. Varys."

The eunuch gave them a solemn look. "Alas, I bring ill news for you, my lords. Robb Stark's brothers live and his brother Brynden Stark, the Demon of the North, has put all of the Ironborn in the north to the sword, captured Balon Greyjoy's daughter along with the ships of the Iron Fleet and has retaken Winterfell. Ser Jaime remains a prisoner of the Starks, locked in the dungeons of Winterfell and Brynden Stark plans to march onto the Dreadfort to take the head of the Bastard of Bolton for sacking Winterfell."

Tyrion along with the other lords were surprised to hear Bran and Rickon still lived. He remembered not long ago when he had been informed that Theon Greyjoy decorated the walls of Winterfell with the corpses of the Stark boys.

Lord Tyrell voiced Tyrion's thoughts, "How do the Stark boys still live? Theon Greyjoy had their heads mounted on the castle walls."

"It turns out that those boys Theon Greyjoy presented were a miller's boys."

"How do we know that the Stark boys Brynden Stark has presented live when they could be imposters?" Littlefinger asked.

"Their wolves are by their sides and I doubt Brynden Stark would lie about his brothers." The eunuch replied.

"What do we know of Stark's plans and movements?" asked Mathis Rowan, ever blunt and to the point.

"He has run back to Riverrun with his plunder, abandoning the castles he took in the west," announced Lord Tywin. "Our cousin Ser Daven is reforming the remnants of his late father's army at Lannisport. When they are ready he shall join Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth. As soon as the Stark boy starts north, Ser Forley and Ser Daven will descend on Riverrun."

"You are certain Lord Stark means to go north?" Lord Rowan asked.

Mace Tyrell spoke up. "No doubt the boy plans to join his forces to Roose Bolton's once more and wait for his brother to sail down from the north to further augment his own strength before launching his assault on the Iron Islands. That is what I would do."

Tyrion had to bite his tongue at that. Robb and Brynden Stark had won more battles in a year than the Lord of Highgarden had in twenty. Tyrell's reputation rested on one indecisive victory over Robert Baratheon at Ashford, in a battle largely won by Lord Tarly's van before the main host had even arrived. The siege of Storm's End, where Mace Tyrell actually did hold the command, had dragged on a year to no result, and after the Trident was fought, the Lord of Highgarden had meekly dipped his banners to Eddard Stark.

"I ought to write Robb Stark a stern letter," Littlefinger was saying. "I understand his man Bolton is stabling goats in my high hall, it's really quite unconscionable."

Ser Kevan Lannister cleared his throat. "As regards the Starks . . . Balon Greyjoy, who now styles himself King of the Isles has written to us offering terms of alliance to deal with the Starks."

"He ought to be offering fealty," snapped Cersei. "He no longer even has power at sea anymore. Losing his own fleet to a mere boy."

"What terms does he propose?" Lord Mathis Rowan asked.

"That we recognize his kingship and grant him everything north of the Neck."

Lord Redwyne laughed. "How does he hope to control all of that when he doesn't even have the strength to defeat the Starks in battle?"

"I say let the Starks and the Greyjoys fight each other while we finish Stannis." Mace Tyrell added.

Lord Tywin's face gave no hint as to his feelings. "There is Lysa Arryn to deal with as well. Jon Arryn's widow, Hoster Tully's daughter, Catelyn Stark's sister . . . whose husband was conspiring with Stannis Baratheon at the time of his death."

"Oh," said Mace Tyrell cheerfully, "women have no stomach for war. Let her be, I say, she's not like to trouble us."

"I agree," said Redwyne. "The Lady Lysa took no part in the fighting, nor has she committed any overt acts of treason."

Tyrion stirred. "She did throw me in a cell and put me on trial for my life," he pointed out, with a certain amount of rancor. "Nor has she returned to King's Landing to swear fealty to Joff, as she was commanded. My lords, grant me the men, and I will sort out Lysa Arryn." He could think of nothing he would enjoy more, except perhaps strangling Cersei. Sometimes he still dreamed of the Eyrie's sky cells, and woke drenched in cold sweat.

Mace Tyrell's smile was jovial, but behind it Tyrion sensed contempt. "Perhaps you'd best leave the fighting to fighters," said the Lord of Highgarden. "Better men than you have lost great armies in the Mountains of the Moon, or shattered them against the Bloody Gate. We know your worth, my lord, no need to tempt fate."

Tyrion pushed off his cushions, bristling, but his father spoke before he could lash back. "I have other tasks in mind for Tyrion. I believe Lord Petyr may hold the key to the Eyrie."

"Oh, I do," said Littlefinger, "I have it here between my legs." There was mischief in his grey-green eyes. "My lords, with your leave, I propose to travel to the Vale and there woo and win Lady Lysa Arryn. Once I am her consort, I shall deliver you the Vale of Arryn without a drop of blood being spilled."

Lord Rowan looked doubtful. "Would Lady Lysa have you?"

"She's had me a few times before, Lord Mathis, and voiced no complaints."

"Bedding," said Cersei, "is not wedding. Even a cow like Lysa Arryn might be able to grasp the difference."

"To be sure. It would not have been fitting for a daughter of Riverrun to marry one so far below her." Littlefinger spread his hands. "Now, though . . . a match between the Lady of the Eyrie and the Lord of Harrenhal is not so unthinkable, is it?"

Tyrion noted the look that passed between Paxter Redwyne and Mace Tyrell. "It might serve," Lord Rowan said, "if you are certain that you can keep the woman loyal to the King's Grace."

"My lords," pronounced the High Septon, "autumn is upon us, and all men of good heart are weary of war. If Lord Baelish can bring the Vale back into the king's peace without more shedding of blood, the gods will surely bless him."

"But can he?" asked Lord Redwyne. "Jon Arryn's son is Lord of the Eyrie now. The Lord Robert."

"Only a boy," said Littlefinger. "I will see that he grows to be Joffrey's most loyal subject, and a fast friend to us all."

Tyrion studied the slender man with the pointed beard and irreverent grey-green eyes. Lord of Harrenhal an empty honor? Bugger that, Father. Even if he never sets foot in the castle, the title makes this match possible, as he's known all along.

"We have no lack of foes," said Ser Kevan Lannister. "If the Eyrie can be kept out of the war, all to the good. I am of a mind to see what Lord Petyr can accomplish." Ser Kevan was his brother's vanguard in council, Tyrion knew from long experience; he never had a thought that Lord Tywin had not had first. It has all been settled beforehand, he concluded, and this discussion's no more than a show.

"Perhaps we ought move on to the wedding," Ser Kevan added.

* * *

"My lord father has sent captains and sailors to crew the ships to Deepwood Motte." Ser Wylis Manderly announced.

"Good," Brynden nodded. "We'll need them for when we set sail for Seagard when we are done with the bastard."

It had been a couple of days before a raven had returned from Riverrun. Brynden was not at all surprised that it was his mother who had written back to him. His mother needed some good news and Brynden was relieved to inform mother that Bran and Rickon still lived instead of having to tell her that their bodies were being laid to rest. He did not at all know how she would have taken the news. Brynden had been none to pleased however when mother had told him their alliance with the Freys had been broken because Robb had wed some western wench.

How could Robb be such a fool? They needed a united kingdom if they hoped to stand a chance against the Lannisters and the Tyrell alliance. The riverlands would be impossible to hold against the southron alliance if the Freys decided to turn cloaks. At least Brynden had the sense not to take Asha Greyjoy as his wife once he had bedded her. Brynden knew it had to have been honor that compelled Robb to marry the wench. Honor got their father killed and now Robb's honor had cost them an alliance with the Freys.

While Brynden was looking forward to seeing Robb and mother again, he was not at all looking forward to the dangers they would face once he joined them in the south. At least when they were in the north they had the advantage, but in the riverlands they were surrounded by enemies on all sides. It didn't help that Aunt Lysa refused to send the Knights of the Vale to aid them. If she had lent the Vale's strength to their cause they might have stood a chance with holding the riverlands against all of the south.

Now Brynden didn't like the odds they were facing with the Tyrells and the Martells allied with the Lannisters and Stannis Baratheon broken at the Blackwater. Not to mention that Sansa and Arya were still held as prisoners in King's Landing. The only thing keeping them at bay was that the Kingslayer was still their prisoner and they now had control over the Sunset Sea. But thanks to Robb's folly, they now had also angered the Freys of the Crossing. Not for the first time, Brynden wondered if the riverlands was worth all the trouble they were in. If they abandoned the riverlands though, they would be leaving the river lords at the mercy of the Lannisters. Brynden doubted they would be willing to abandon their castles and flee to the north.

Why did you have to go and break your word, Robb? They needed swords now more than ever and Robb had lost the Freys because of some western wench. Robb should have seen the sense in his folly when he had decided to marry her, but Brynden couldn't blame his brother for wanting the comfort of a woman when he had learned of their brother's false deaths. If he had only gotten to Winterfell sooner, Brynden wondered if his brother's folly could have been avoided.

There was no point in dwelling on the past however. Brynden needed to be focused on his coming battle against the Bastard of Bolton. His men had been eager for another fight since he had kept them busy repairing the walls and battlements of Winterfell. He doubted it would be much of a fight since Ser Kyle had reported the bastard had only around six hundred men at the Dreadfort. If the bastard was smart, he would remain holed up the castle, forcing Brynden to lay siege, but after hearing the tales about the bastard, Brynden doubted he would have the patience to hide behind the castle walls.

Brynden was also not patient and he did not plan to lay siege to the castle as King Harlon Stark had done. If the bastard decided not to lead an attack when Brynden approached the castle, he planned to use siege towers to raze it to the ground. Lord Bolton would not be happy about it, but he should have known better than to leave a bastard like Ramsay Snow in command of the Dreadfort.

Bran and Rickon would not be happy about Brynden leaving, but he had no choice. The Bastard of Bolton had to answer for what he had done and their way was the way of the First Men. It fell onto Brynden to deliver the bastard's sentence as the Stark in Winterfell. Brynden would not hesitate to take the bastard's life as he would avenge Ser Rodrik, Maester Luwin, and everyone who was killed during the sack of Winterfell.

"See to it that our men are ready to march," Brynden told Robett Glover. The man had become one of his staunchest champions since Brynden had retaken Deepwood Motte and freed his family from the Ironborn. "The Bastard of Bolton has lived long enough. It is time that he answered for the crimes he has committed."

"What of King Robb, my prince?" Smalljon Umber asked. "He's commanded for us to set sail for Seagard."

"I have not forgotten my brother's command," Brynden replied. Robb's raven had arrived a few days after mother's, informing him to take the ships he had captured from the Iron Fleet and sail for Seagard. His brother had not mentioned what his intentions were with the ships, but Brynden knew his brother could wait a little while longer. "The north will not be safe so long as Ramsay Snow is at large. We've all seen what he has done and the bastard must answer for what he has done. I will not leave the north until I have the bastard's head on a spike."

"The Blackwolf!" Robett Glover roared.

"The Demon of the North!" Several of his other bannermen added.

"Let's go kill some Boltons!" Brynden roared and they all cheered his name. I'm coming for you bastard, and not even the Dreadfort will be able to protect you from me.

Once he had dismissed the war council, Brynden made his way to where Bran and Rickon would be, with Shadow and his guards trailing behind him. Outside men were readying themselves for battle, but they stopped to bow and greet him as he passed by them. Winterfell was packed just as the day when Robb had called the banners for war. The yard rang to the sound of sword and axe, the rumble of wagons, and the barking of dogs. You would never have believed the castle had been sacked a while ago with all the men roaming about.

Brynden was certain Rickon would not be happy when he learned that he was leaving again. His baby brother had been overjoyed the first time when they were reunited outside the crypts of Winterfell. He still found it hard to believe at times that his brothers had managed to evade Theon and his Ironborn by hiding out in their Father's tomb. Brynden was grateful that Theon was not smart enough to search the crypts when they had slipped through his clutches. All that mattered now though to Brynden was that his brothers were alive and safe.

Brynden found his brothers in the godswood, playing with their wolves while Osha and the Reeds watched. "Bran, Rickon!" He called out as he approached them. Shadow bounded off to greet Summer and Shaggy while his brothers ran over to him.

"You're leaving," Bran blurted out and Brynden knew that his face had given it away.

"Aye, the walls and battlements have been repaired and it is past time that I march on the Dreadfort. You will be the Stark in Winterfell in my place when I am gone."

"But you just got back," Rickon cried out.

"I know, but mother will be back home soon and she'll look after you two while I am in the south with Robb. Be good for Bran, baby brother." Brynden smiled as he reached down and ruffled Rickon's hair. "You two look out for each other and mother will be back before you know it."

To his surprise, Rickon did not complain as he did the first time when he and Robb had to leave. "I promise."

"Don't worry, you two will be safe once I have dealt with the Bastard of Bolton." Brynden said.

"What about the Kingslayer?" Bran asked.

"He'll be coming with us. It's best not to keep the Kingslayer in one place for too long and I don't want to leave him here with you two." Even with all the guards watching their prisoner, Brynden did not want to take the chance of the Kingslayer escaping and taking one of his brothers as a hostage. He had just gotten them back and he did not want to expose them to any more danger. "Asha will also be accompanying me."

His bannermen did not approve of him bringing a Greyjoy into his bed, but Brynden didn't care. If they knew what kind of woman Asha was in bed, he was certain they would do the same and not complain about it. She was even better in bed than Ros was and the best part about having Asha in his bed was that he did not have to pay her to fuck her. The only one he was worried about finding out about his relationship with Asha was his mother, as he could already imagine the look of disapproval on her face when she found out.

"When will you be back?" Bran asked.

"Soon, I hope. Robb and I will have our hands full dealing with the Lannisters and the Tyrells, but we'll defeat them just as we did with the Ironborn and the Kingslayer. Try and stay out of trouble while I'm gone and listen to the maester's council. Keep up with your sparring, Bran." His brother's skills had improved since Brynden had last seen him, but he was still young and nowhere close to his or Jon's level.

"How can I do that when I'm busy ruling Winterfell?"

"I'm sure you'll find the time to practice," Brynden replied. "We'll see each other again soon, I promise." With that, Brynden took his leave and headed out to the yard beneath the gatehouse, where his men waited for him.

Brynden grinned when he spotted Asha waiting for him. She truly was an Ironborn: lean and long-legged, with black hair cut short, wind-chafed skin, and strong sure hands. Her nose was too big and too sharp for her thin face, but her smile and the way she fucked made up for it. He truly was a lucky man to have a woman like her as his mistress. Despite Asha being his prisoner and mistress, he had given her more freedom than the Kingslayer was allowed. He was surprised that she had not tried to kill him yet and knew it was probably because of his wolf's presence.

"How's my favorite Ironborn woman?" Brynden smirked as he mounted his horse.

"I'm the only Ironborn woman you know," Asha replied.

"True enough," Brynden shrugged as he wheeled his horse around and trotted away, with Shadow and Asha following him. He looked back at the castle and wondered how long it would be before he would see Winterfell again.

Ser Kyle Condon went before them through the gate, carrying the rippling white banner of House Stark atop a high standard of grey ash. Asha Greyjoy and Robett Glover fell in on either side of him, and their knights formed up in a double column behind them. Brynden was reminded of the first time he had left Winterfell with Robb and it had been Theon and the Greatjon riding with them to free their father and sisters from the Lannisters. Now their father was gone, but Brynden would not rest until his sisters were safely back home again. The Lannisters weren't the only ones who paid their debts.

* * *

 **Sorry for the wait, but as you all know, it takes a while for me to get started writing. Not to mention that I sometimes get stuck with choosing whose POV to put into the chapter.**

 **Reviews**

 **Vandal: Lol, we're not in the modern world in this story, we're in the medieval times. Brynden isn't perfect and has experienced a lot since the start of the story, but he's definitely better than Ramsay and Gregor Clegane.**

 **Sceonn: I guess you'll have to wait and find out.**

 **War Sage: No, Bran will not be going north to find the Three-Eyed Crow and yes, Brynden is a warg though like Jon and Arya, he is just not aware of it yet. Salt wives are part of the Ironborn culture, but yes, she will be Brynden's bed warmer/mistress.**

 **el ay rayn: Thanks for the praise, it means a lot. For me it definitely gets boring after a while reading a Stark kid story that does something that another Stark kid does almost every time with no significant changes to the story line, so I decided to try something different and like what I have done with it so far.**

 **WarBible: The thing with the ravens is that Brynden would most likely want to send them from Winterfell instead of relying on another house to send his message and that he would not want to risk it getting lost or intercepted, and he would have no way of knowing that it was sent at all.  
**

 **Dipsyy: There's your answer.**

 **Culhu31415927: The ships of the Iron Fleet will be used very soon when Brynden is done with Ramsay.**

 **Blaze1992: Lol, I'll keep that in mind.**


	11. War of the Wolves

**Here is my second attempt at another medieval battle. Hopefully this one is better than the Battle on the Fever River.**

 **UPDATE  
**

 **Definitely not doing the polygamy thing. I apologize for the mistake I made. It was a spur of the moment thought that I had and regret coming up with it. Asha will remain as his mistress, nothing more. Forget that I ever thought of this idea.  
**

 **Anyway, shoutout to new reviewers: CaedmonCousland, Deiron Lionheart, Wolfking0811, Drakhus Von Carstein, lilnudger82, JAIMOL, KidChaos69, Golden Dragon King, TheFlowerOfTheCourt, Tritan and to returning reviewers: Dipsyy, Gravio, iitrnr, mpowers045, onyxhaider98, ravens18, WarBible, Master of Dragons God, jean d'arc, Vandal, Blaze1992, and guest.**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

They had stopped for the night after crossing the White Knife River and had made camp a few days from the Dreadfort. Asha had joined Brynden inside his pavilion to pleasure him while his wolf was curled up by the fire, but she had grown used to his presence. When Brynden was inside her, all of her worries disappeared, and she enjoyed the feeling, letting her lust take over her body.

None of the northern lords approved of her relationship with their prince, but neither Asha nor Brynden cared about it. To them she was just a squid, but in the eyes of their prince, Asha was Brynden's mistress. Asha wanted to be more than that if it meant saving her people from ruin and giving them a life that her father could never hope to achieve. The ironborn were not a forgiving people, and Asha had been defeated once already, and she did not know how her father or people would react if she came back home with a Stark as her husband, yet she was her father's heir with her uncle Victarion dead and Theon's whereabouts were unknown. Her father had given her people only war and defeat, but she hoped to give them peace and land to settle on.

Asha knew it would not be easy convincing Brynden Stark to take her as his wife after the battles their people had fought, but she had to try in order to shield her people from his fury. His house needed allies if they hoped to prevail against the south. Even bed warmers and prisoners have ears, and she had heard all the talk at Winterfell, when Prince Brynden and his commanders were discussing their battle plans of the Dreadfort. His brother, King Robb had wed some western wench, losing the support of the Freys of the Crossing, and the Lannisters had formed an alliance with the Tyrells and the Martells of Dorne. She doubted the Starks would be able to hold the riverlands against all of the south by themselves.

When they had finished, Brynden rolled off and climbed from their bed, and crossed over to where his maps were laid out. Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her. Asha had lost count of how many times Brynden had spilled his seed inside of her. She would not at all be surprised to find out that she was pregnant with his child.

"You should get some sleep," Brynden told her while he hovered over his maps, naked as the day he was born.

"So should you." Asha wondered if now would be the best time to propose her offer to him. A warrior needed to be focused before going into battle, but she didn't know if she would get another chance to tell him. Brynden was neither betrothed nor wed at the moment, and their union could put an end to the blood feud between their two houses and unite their people against the south. He might be the second son, but he was still the heir to the north until his brother had a son.

Not wanting to miss this chance, Asha got out of bed, cursing the cold, and crossed over to Brynden, pressing her body against his and wrapping her arms around him. She could never understand how Brynden was used to the cold, but he had told her that the Starks were made for the cold. "Can't stand being alone in bed without me, can you?" Brynden asked.

"We need to talk," Asha said, ignoring his jape.

"About what?"

"An alliance."

"There's nothing to talk about." Asha knew he would be difficult, but she had to make him see her point.

"You need allies if you hope to defeat your enemies. I can give you that." She did not know if she truly could, but it would not serve her cause to show doubt before this prince.

"I have your ships. What else can your people give me that I already have?"

"Peace without further bloodshed. If you decide to attack the Iron Islands, you will lose men, and we both know that you need all the men you can get if you hope to defeat your enemies. With my uncle dead and Theon missing, I am my father's heir."

"We both know what happened the last time we tried to form an alliance with your people. Your people tried to invade my lands and slaughtered my people. Had I not been wary of your brother and known that my brother sent yours to negotiate an alliance with your father, things might have been different and your people might have taken the north and I never would have known that my brothers were still alive after your brother's folly. What makes this time any different?"

Asha could sense his anger, but remained calm despite knowing that this man had also slaughtered her own men. She had lost good men that day when Brynden Stark had retaken Deepwood Motte and defeated her in the woods, but she would not let the past affect her as it did to her father. She was in this mess because of her father's desire for revenge.

"Marriage and lands for my people to settle on. In exchange they will help man and crew your ships. We both know that you need sailors and captains. The Ironborn were born to sail on the waters and yours have no experience at sea."

Brynden freed himself from her embrace and turned around to face her with a surprised look on his face. "Marriage? And what lands are we talking about? I doubt your father or my brother would agree to this."

"Our marriage, Stark and Greyjoy. Cape Kraken, Sea Dragon Point, and the Stony Shore, enough land to settle my people on. In return they will swear fealty to the Starks of Winterfell. Why continue this pointless bloodshed when we can unite our people to stand together against the Iron Throne? Leave my father to me."

Brynden frowned, as if he was deep in thought. She knew it was a lot to take in, but surely it was enough to convince him to think about it. Their people may be enemies today, but on the morrow, they could be allies united together against the Iron Throne. They both wanted the same thing: freedom from the rule of the south.

"I need time to think about this," Brynden said at last. "My bannermen will also need to hear this offer. No doubt they will be wary as I am about forming an alliance with your people, but what you say is true. After my brother's folly we need all the allies we can get if we hope to win this war. Even if it means making peace with our enemies."

Asha smiled. "That is all that I ask. Now come back to bed with me."

Brynden smirked. "Admit it, you can't stand being in bed without me."

"Never." She pressed her lips against his and led him back to bed, wanting to feel him inside of her and hoping that he would agree to her offer.

* * *

Her sons were alive. Catelyn couldn't believe it when the raven had arrived from Winterfell, informing her and Robb of the news. There had been nothing but silence for a while and Catelyn had worried over the fate of her second son until at last word had come down from the north. Winterfell had been retaken, but Ser Rodrik and his host were slaughtered by the Bastard of Bolton and all of the Ironborn holding the castle were put to the sword and her son was now marching on the Dreadfort to have the bastard answer for his crimes. Catelyn was disappointed when she was informed that Theon Greyjoy was not amongst the dead. The raven also had news informing the lords that were with Robb of the wellbeing of their sons.

Robb had also been in disbelief when he had learned that his brothers were alive. Catelyn wondered if he had now realized his mistake when he had taken Jeyne Westerling as his wife and queen. Not for the first time, Catelyn cursed the distance from Winterfell to Riverrun, as if the raven had arrived sooner, Robb could have been informed and not broken his oath to House Frey. It was swords that they needed now more than ever now that the Lannisters had allied with the Tyrells and the Martells. Robb was now alone in this war against the Lannisters.

The north may be secured now, but it was the riverlands they now had to worry about. It would not be easy holding the riverlands for Catelyn knew all too well of her land's bloody history. Even with Jaime Lannister as their prisoner still, it was only a matter of time before the Lannisters took to the field once more against her son. They had the numbers, but Catelyn was certain Robb would prevail; he had not lost a battle yet against the Lannisters, and when Brynden joined his forces to Robb's they would defeat their enemies together.

All Catelyn wanted now was to be reunited with her family, but her girls were still held by the Lannisters at King's Landing. She knew her sons were focused on seceding their lands from the rule of the Iron Throne, yet she couldn't stand knowing that her girls were still captives at King's Landing. Had Jaime Lannister remained at Riverrun, Catelyn was certain she would have freed him if it meant winning her daughter's freedom, knowing that Robb and his lords would never abide to it.

Catelyn hoped that when her son resumed his attack on the westerlands, he would send her back to Winterfell to let her be with Bran and Rickon. It had been so long since she had last seen them and she was relieved to know that they were alive and well. She wondered if Brynden would make it down to the riverlands before her father passed away. Catelyn knew her father did not have much time left and hoped that he would see her Brynden before he passed.

"How long does Prince Brynden expect his siege on the Dreadfort will last? I doubt Lord Bolton will be pleased to hear what Brynden plans to do to his castle." Edmure spoke. Her brother had wanted to make amends for his folly with the Battle of the Fords. In retaliation for his bastard sacking Winterfell, Brynden planned to raze the castle to the ground.

"We will hear what Lord Bolton has to say for his bastard's actions soon enough," Robb told them. "As for my brother's actions, he has the right to deliver justice to the Bastard of Bolton as my heir."

"Will that not make Lord Bolton an enemy though?" Her uncle asked.

"He did not seem to mind at all the first time when he had learned that Ser Rodrik killed his bastard," Robb replied. But what about this time, Catelyn wondered.

She remembered the queer cold letter they had received from Roose Bolton the first time he had learned that his bastard had been killed by Ser Rodrik as if his bastard had meant less to him than one of his dogs. Catelyn did not at all know how that man's mind worked and hoped that he would be more forgiving than Walder Frey.

Roose Bolton had crossed the Trident and was marching on Harrenhal as commanded, he wrote. "A strong castle, and well garrisoned, but His Grace shall have it, if I must kill every living soul within to make it so." He hoped His Grace would weigh that against the crimes of his bastard son, whom Ser Rodrik Cassel had put to death. "A fate he no doubt earned," Bolton had written. "Tainted blood is ever treacherous, and Ramsay's nature was sly, greedy, and cruel. I count myself well rid of him. The trueborn sons my young wife has promised me would never have been safe while he lived."

Catelyn wondered what his response would be this time when he learned what her son planned to do to his castle when he was done with his bastard.

"This time would be different though," her uncle pointed out, voicing her thoughts. "Your brother will put all of the garrison to the sword and raze the castle to the ground."

"Those men should have thought twice then before following Bolton's bastard into sacking Winterfell." Robb snapped. "They are traitors and Brynden has the right to punish them as he sees fit."

"I doubt Lord Bolton will see it that way," Edmure said.

"Lord Bolton will have a chance to prove his loyalty in the coming battle against the Lannisters when Brynden joins us," Robb said. "The man has proven himself loyal so far to our cause and I have not doubted him yet. It was his bastard that betrayed us, not Roose Bolton."

"I hope you are right," her uncle said. "We need allies not enemies now more than ever if we hope to win this war."

"When Brynden joins us once he is done in the north, we might just stand a chance." Robb said.

For all their sakes, Catelyn hoped that Robb was right.

* * *

The pain had been excruciating and constant. Theon wanted it all to end, but Ramsay persisted with the torture. He had lost track of how long it had been since he had been brought to the Dreadfort. Down in the dungeons, it was hard to tell when it was day or night. For a time he wondered if this was the punishment he had earned for what he had done to the miller's boys. How long did he have to endure this pain before he was finally put out of his misery? Theon wanted it to end but Ramsay would have none of that.

He did not want to forget his name, but when he resisted and defied Ramsay the pain would increase tenfold. Serve me and obey, Ramsay would tell him, and I will let you live and keep the parts that you still have. He would never become his Reek, but there were times when he was tempted to surrender to put an end to the pain. Brynden Stark would come for him, Theon knew and when he did he would finally be put out of his misery. He would rather die by the dark greatsword Brynden wielded than continue to be tortured by Ramsay. Anything at this point was better than remaining a prisoner of the Dreadfort.

Yet Brynden Stark had not come and Theon wondered what was taking him so long. Did he not know that it was Ramsay not Theon who had sacked Winterfell and slaughtered Ser Rodrik's host? It would have been just his luck for Brynden to believe that he was dead and not knowing that Ramsay was the real culprit behind the sack of Winterfell. Not for the first time, Theon wished he had heeded Asha's advice and returned with her to Deepwood Motte instead of being the fool that he was and believing that he could hold Winterfell against Brynden Stark.

Theon did not know how much longer he would be able to endure the pain before he submitted, but he wanted to at least be himself when Brynden Stark came to end his and Ramsay's lives. Nothing would give him more satisfaction than watching Brynden Stark take Ramsay's head. Sooner or later the bastard would get what he deserved and not even the Dreadfort would be able to protect him from the Demon of the North. It was the only thing that kept him sane in his cell.

To his horror, Theon heard the door to his cell open and the sound of footsteps as they grew louder and louder. Please gods, he isn't coming for me, he prayed. He knew what was coming next if it was Ramsay. Go away, he prayed, go away, please, please. But the footsteps stopped just when they were loudest, and he shrieked when the light hit him full in the face. Ramsay smiled as his face appeared in front of Theon's. Ramsay was ugly man, big-boned and slope-shouldered, with a fleshiness to him that suggested that in later life he would run to fat. His skin was pink and blotchy, his nose broad, his mouth small, his hair long and dark and dry. His lips were wide and meaty, but the thing men noticed first about him were his eyes. He had his lord father's eyes—small, close-set, queerly pale. Ghost grey, some men called the shade, but in truth his eyes were all but colorless, like two chips of dirty ice.

"Hello again, my friend," Ramsay greeted. "What piece should we take off today or have you decided to submit?"

"I'm Theon Greyjoy," he replied.

"No you are not, you are Reek. It seems that we will have to peel off some more of your skin today." Theon knew what was coming. Ramsay preferred to flay the skin and let the exposed flesh dry and crack and fester. Theon had been whipped and racked and cut, but there was no pain half so excruciating as the pain that followed flaying. It was the sort of pain that drove men mad, and it could not be endured for long.

Sooner or later the victim would scream, "Please, no more, no more, stop it hurting, cut it off, " and Ramsay would oblige. It was a game they played. Theon had learned the rules, despite his defiance, as his hands and feet could testify, but that one time he had forgotten and tried to end the pain himself, with his teeth. Ramsay had not been pleased, and the offence had cost Theon another toe.

Before Ramsay could begin they were interrupted by another sound of footsteps as a guard entered the cell. Ramsay frowned and turned to face the guard. "What is it?"

"Pardon for the intrusion, but Brynden Stark has crossed the White Knife River with a host of eleven thousand men. They mean to attack the Dreadfort."

At last, Theon thought with glee. He knew that sooner or later Brynden Stark would learn the truth about the sack and would come to seek justice. He would soon be free of the torment and Ramsay would meet his end. Theon knew that this news had saved him from another day of flaying. Theon wondered how the bastard would act against the Blackwolf.

"Ready the men for battle. Let's go ride out and greet our prince." Ramsay ordered.

Fool, Theon wanted to tell him, but knew it would be wiser to remain silent. Brynden Stark would not make the same mistake Ser Rodrik had made if he was marching on the Dreadfort. Someone had to have told him about the sack, but who, Theon wondered.

"Would it not be wiser to wait for them to come to us?" The guard asked.

Ramsay smiled. "We'll take them out the same way we took out his castellan."

* * *

Brynden lay awake, thinking about the offer Asha had proposed to him. Asha nestled against him, one arm draped lightly over his, her breasts brushing his back. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady. It was hard not for him to think about it when all that went through his mind was the thought of Asha being his wife. The last time he had thought about marriage was at the Twins when Robb had agreed to take one of Walder Frey's daughters as his wife in order to cross. If he agreed to Asha's offer he would not make the same mistake Robb did and would immediately wed her to seal their alliance.

Most of his bannermen's reactions had been exactly as he had predicted when he had told them about Asha's offer. Even Robett Glover, his staunchest champion had opposed the offer. None of them liked the idea of settling the Ironborn on Cape Kraken, Sea Dragon Point, and the Stony Shore. The squid asks for too much they had told him. He knew that Asha asked for a lot but as much as Brynden agreed with his bannermen they needed allies if they hoped to defeat their enemies. It was also hard for Brynden to tell if his bannermen disagreed because they wanted one of their daughters to be his wife.

If it were not for Robb's folly with his marriage to the western wench, Brynden would never have considered it. Now it was a different story. As the heir to the north, Brynden knew that he would have to sooner or later marry, but never thought it would be with the daughter of a Great House, not to mention a Greyjoy. He wondered if his mother or Robb would approve of his decision if he decided to accept Asha's offer. The only problem he saw with Asha's offer was dealing with her father. It would be no easy task convincing Balon Greyjoy as the man had already spurned his brother's offer for an alliance once before. He had no idea if things would be any different if Asha was to be his wife.

Despite his mistrust of Balon Greyjoy, Asha assured him that he had always preferred her as his heir after Theon was sent to Winterfell as his father's ward. Brynden could see why as Asha was certainly a woman who could lead better than Theon ever could. She was also certainly a lot more forgiving than he was, realizing the importance of being allies than enemies. Not for the first time Brynden wished that Father was here. He would know what to do in this situation, but he was gone, along with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik. It would ultimately be his decision whether or not he should agree to Asha's offer of an alliance.

Asha must have been thinking about the offer when she had first gone into bed with him, obeying and pleasuring the man who had slaughtered her men. She certainly was not like any of the ladies he had encountered. Most would have tried to resist if they had been in Asha's position. Brynden was starting to regret the first night they were together when he had raped her in his anger when he had thought that Theon had killed his brothers. He had let his emotions get the better of him, blaming her and her people for the deaths of his brothers, not knowing that they were alive. He was a Stark of Winterfell; he should have been better than that.

Still, Asha made a good point about invading the Iron Islands. Brynden was certain that they would be able to defeat the Ironborn, but it would cost them. With Stannis Baratheon defeated and the south under the control of the Lannisters, Brynden knew that they needed all the men they could get. Attacking the Iron Islands would only hurt their cause and weaken their armies, giving the Lannisters the opportunity to attack them. He hated to admit it, but Asha was right. They needed the Ironborn and the Ironborn needed them if they hoped to prevail against the Iron Throne.

Asha murmured sleepily as Brynden slid out from under her arm and rolled over onto his side to look at her. She had a faded pink scar on her pretty neck, and the smell of her enticed him, salt and sweat and woman. Smirking, Brynden slid his hand up and squeezed her breasts. Her breasts were small, but he liked the firmness of them. Her eyes snapped open and he could see the sparkle in her dark eyes.

Asha smiled and he could feel her hand reach down and stroke his manhood. She had the wickedest smile he'd ever seen on a woman. "Looks like someone is eager down there. Is my body that irresistible for you?"

"You have no idea." Brynden grinned, reaching down and grabbing Asha by the waists before rolling onto his back, with Asha on top of him. "I could use some distraction before the coming battle."

They were a day's march from the Dreadfort and Brynden wanted his men well and rested before they attacked. They might have the numbers but the Boltons had the advantage if they decided to hole up in the castle. He would lose more men storming the castle than the Boltons would.

"My favorite position," Asha said as she slid his manhood inside her and began to grind her body against his.

Damn this woman knew how to fuck. Squeezing her rear end, Brynden lifted himself off the bed as Asha continued to ride him and pressed his lips against hers while her breasts pressed against his chest. He could feel her nipples harden as their tongues fought for dominance, tugging and pulling the other while their saliva mixed together. Eventually he could feel his manhood ready to burst and they climaxed together, with his seed shooting into Asha's womb.

He fell back onto the bed and Asha rested her head on his shoulder. With the amount of times he had spilled his seed inside of her, Brynden was certain she would be carrying his child by now. If she was, Brynden did not want their child to grow up as a bastard like Jon Snow, but to prevent that he would have to take her as his wife and Brynden was still uncertain of Asha's offer. Indeed it was an alliance his House needed after Robb had broken their alliance with the Freys of the Crossing and Brynden doubted a better one would come anytime soon with the Martells and Tyrells allied with the Lannisters. The only Great House left that had not committed itself to the war was House Arryn.

The knights of the Vale could make all the difference in this war, but Aunt Lysa refused to aid them against the Lannisters. Even when they had won every battle and secured the north, Brynden could not help but wonder if they stood a chance against the might of the south. If it was at Moat Cailin, they would be able to throw their armies back easily, but it was the riverlands they had to worry about.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a warhorn blasting. The horns called through the night, wild and urgent, a cry that said hurry hurry hurry. He heard shouts, the clatter of spears, the whicker of horses, though nothing yet that spoke to him of fighting. "Just when I thought I was going to be able to get some rest," Asha muttered.

"It's Ser Kyle's warhorns," Brynden told her as he rolled her off him and got out of bed. Shadow bared his teeth and let out a low rumble. The flap to his pavilion opened and Harrion Karstark entered. "What is it?" Brynden asked, throwing on a tunic and slipping his legs through his breeches.

"Ser Kyle and his outriders have engaged the Bastard of Bolton's men. They count no more than six hundred men in his party." Harrion told him, ignoring the state of undress Asha was in while Brynden put on his armor.

"Saves us the trouble of having to lay siege to the castle. I want our men to surround them to prevent them from retreating. If possible I want the bastard brought to me alive. I want the bastard to die by my hands." Brynden told Harrion.

"I will see to it at once, my prince," Harrion bowed and took his leave.

"The bastard is a fool if he believed that he could catch you off guard," Asha said as she covered herself up in her furs.

"No doubt he thought he could catch me off guard as he did with Ser Rodrik," Brynden said.

Did the bastard truly expect that he could take on Brynden's host of eleven thousand with just six hundred men? Brynden wondered what the bastard was thinking when he had decided to leave the safety of the walls of the Dreadfort to engage his army. It was obvious to Brynden that the bastard had no skills at commanding if he believed that he could defeat Brynden. It almost made him feel sorry for the men that were following the bastard into battle.

"There's no need for you to get up," Brynden told Asha as he opened the flap to his pavilion, with Shadow bounding off for battle. "This will be over before you know it."

Asha smirked. "Just don't take too long."

"Like that will happen." Brynden exited the pavilion and headed over to where his horse was. His guards were waiting for him as Brynden mounted his steed. "Time for us to spill some Bolton blood, men!"

"Blackwolf!" They cheered as they rode off to join the others in battle.

Brynden heard the screams of the horses, the shouting of men, and the clash of steel on steel before they arrived at the sight of the battle. The flayed man of the Boltons could be seen as the riders struggled to control their horses while Karstark spearmen thrust their spears at them. Brynden had no doubt that Harrion would be among them, commanding the attack. He just hoped that the bastard did not die in the first charge.

A hiss of arrows fell down on the Boltons, taking a few of them with them down before Brynden and his guards charged into the fray. Unsheathing Ice, Brynden swung it down on the first Bolton that came into his sight. He had never been good at fighting on horseback as Robb had been, but this battle was nothing more than a massacre and Brynden was eager to shed the blood of the men that had sacked Winterfell.

The next Bolton that he had faced was not so easy as the first one he had struck down. This one was big and muscled, and refused to go down without a fight. Brynden was happy to give it to him. Their swords danced in the night as they struck each other, waiting for the other to show an opening of weakness. The Bolton man was the first to lose focus as Shadow emerged from the darkness and snapped his fangs at the rider's horse. Brynden took the opportunity to swing Ice at his foe, taking the man's head right off of him. The head bounced off into the darkness while the body slumped off the horse and the steed galloped off as Shadow descended onto the corpse.

Riding off in search of another target, Brynden rode down a Bolton man that was chasing after a fleeing horse. By then the rest of the Boltons had been dealt with as the archers picked off any stragglers. Making his way through the battlefield, Brynden spotted Ser Kyle and a few of his outriders. "SER KYLE!" Brynden called out.

Ser Kyle and his riders rode over to him. "My prince," Ser Kyle bowed.

"Did your men manage to capture the bastard?"

"We did. They are waiting for you."

"Take me to him." It was time for Brynden to face the man responsible for destroying his home. He would finally get to avenge Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and all the other men that had tried to retake Winterfell from Theon Greyjoy.

Ser Kyle led Brynden to an ugly looking man, with a pale pink cloak streaming from his shoulders. When he looked at the man, Brynden instantly knew he was the bastard when he saw his eyes. They were just like Roose Bolton's. "Do you know who I am, bastard?" Brynden asked.

"Brynden Stark." The bastard clearly did not like being called a bastard. It was time that someone finally put him in his place before he put an end to his miserable life.

"Only a fool would have believed that he would have stood a chance against such odds, bastard. Did you truly believe that you would have been able to catch me off guard as you did with Ser Rodrik, bastard?"

"Don't call me a bastard," Ramsay Snow snarled. "I am a Bolton, the son of Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, not a Snow."

"You are a Snow, bastard." Brynden told him and his men held Ramsay down as he tried to lash out at him. Shadow emerged from the darkness and bared his teeth at him. "That makes you a bastard. You are a Snow, not a Bolton, and you will die as what you are, a bastard." He unsheathed Ice and took hold of it with both hands.

Brynden had seen his father do it so many times in the past that he knew what needed to be done. His men forced the bastard's head down as he struggled to glare at him while Shadow growled ready to act if the bastard tried anything. "In the name of Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident, by the word of Brynden of House Stark, Prince of Winterfell, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head and took off the bastard's head with a single sure stroke.

Blood sprayed out across the ground as the head rolled across it. All that was left now was the Dreadfort. Ser Kyle approached him as he sheathed Ice. "Do we continue as planned, my prince?"

"Raze the castle to the ground until there is nothing left. We're done here."

* * *

 **It was hard to write the Theon POV section since there wasn't much to go on. I just included it to show why Ramsay decided to attack Brynden instead of holing up in the Dreadfort, because we all know that he is not that great of a commander or fighter.**

 **I know, the ending wasn't very satisfying, but well Ramsay doesn't really deserve a satisfying end. I don't think I got Ramsay's character right when I wrote the whole bastard thing, but I suppose it doesn't really matter now as he is dead, well in this story he is.**

 **UPDATE**

 **So for those of you wondering why Brynden wants to raze the Dreadfort, its blood for blood. Ramsay may have been behind the sack of Winterfell, and so Brynden wants to do the same to the Dreadfort in retribution for what was done to his own home. Also Roose's response about Ramsay in Catelyn's POV was the first time when Ser Rodrik had thought he had killed him after he had caught him and Reek, just to clarify if you didn't read the entire thing.  
**

 **Reviews**

 **Caedmon Cousland: You also have to remember that Asha is a very strong woman as an Ironborn warrior compared to the southern ladies of Westeros. What I meant about Brynden being better than Ramsay and Gregor was that his character is still better than theirs despite his recent actions.**

 **onyxhaider98: Ros went to King's Landing so her character's fate ends up like it did in the show. Even if the other lords supported Brynden, he would never go against his own blood, not to mention that Robb is his twin.**

 **Deiron Lionheart: I've thought about it and really want to try it as I doubt there has ever been an oc pairing with Asha before. Who knows, it might happen and Brynden will have two warrior wives: Asha and Val.**

 **WarBible: Don't forget that they were in a hurry and needed to cross the Twins, they didn't really have much of a choice if they wanted to relieve Riverrun of its siege.**

 **Drakhus Von Carstein: Nothing is ever set in stone my friend.**

 **jean d'arc: You'll just have to wait and see if the Red Wedding will happen or not. My lips are sealed until then.**

 **Vandal: Yes, Sansa will not marry Tyrion as she is not the heir to Winterfell in this story.**

 **KidChaos69: Lol, I think you're the second or third person to give me that praise. And no, I'm still working on a name for the dagger, so thanks for the suggestions.  
**


	12. A Storm of Swords

**So after some thought, I decided not to have Brynden raze the Dreadfort, but spare it. Also, as I said last chapter, I will not do a polygamy thing with Asha/Brynden/and Val. So there won't be an alliance between the north and the Iron Islands, and the invasion of the Isles will continue as planned.  
**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

They had arrived at Seagard a few days after they had departed from Deepwood Motte, sailing into Ironman's Bay with a fleet of over a hundred and thirty ships. True to his word, Lord Manderly had sent captains and sailors to man the ships for them. To Brynden's surprise, he had also learned that Lord Manderly had been constructing another fleet at White Harbor, with over forty war galleys completed so far, and many more hidden up the White Knife River. With the Ironborn all but defeated, the north would truly hold power at sea with the royal fleets of the Lannisters and the Baratheons destroyed in the Blackwater, with the only threat being the Redwyne Fleet in the Reach.

Once this mess with the Freys was dealt with, nothing would be able to stop them from sacking the southron castles the Lannisters controlled. It was still hard for Brynden to believe that he would finally be seeing Robb and mother again. So much had happened that Brynden didn't know if he would be able to face them after everything he had done in the north. His mother would no doubt disapprove of Brynden fathering a bastard. He had left Asha behind at Winterfell when he had learned that she was pregnant. Hopefully he would be able to convince Robb to legitimize his child when they were born to spare them of the same life Jon Snow had endured as a bastard.

The only thing Brynden regretted at the moment was missing his grandfather's funeral. Lord Jason Mallister had informed Brynden of his grandfather's passing when they had greeted one another. He barely knew his grandfather and wondered if Robb ever had the chance to speak with him while he was at Riverrun. There were too many leagues between them and Riverrun and their father rarely left the north. No doubt his mother mourned Lord Hoster's passing, but at least she would have some comfort knowing that Bran and Rickon were still alive and safe at Winterfell.

As much as he had loathed to part with Ser Kyle, the commander of his outriders, Brynden had left Ser Kyle behind in the north to serve as castellan of Winterfell. Even with the Bastard of Bolton killed and the Ironborn purged from the north, Brynden did not want to take any chances when it came to the safety of his brothers. He would never be able to forgive himself if he lost his brothers again.

Still, Brynden would miss having Ser Kyle by his side in battle. Ser Kyle had played a part in every victory he had won against the Greyjoys in the north. Robett Glover had taken command of the scouts and outriders in his place. It was Robett Glover who had convinced Brynden to spare the Dreadfort from his wrath. "The father should not pay for the sins of his son, nor the son for the sins of his father," Robett Glover had told him. Realizing that he had let his emotions get the better of him again, Brynden reluctantly had spared the Dreadfort from the same fate Winterfell had suffered.

Roose Bolton had been nothing but loyal since the Green Fork. He doubted his bannermen would be pleased if he had gone through with his decision to raze the Dreadfort. It would be just one more enemy they would be facing when they already had so many to deal with in the south. He would only have made matters worse by turning the Boltons of the Dreadfort against them. The only good thing that came out of sparing the Dreadfort was that the remaining men had presented their captive, Theon Greyjoy to Brynden.

Robb would no doubt be pleased to hear that Brynden was bringing Theon Greyjoy with him. Soon, it was only a matter of time before Brynden would get to see Robb take Theon's head off. The Turncloak deserved to suffer more like the Bastard of Bolton, but it was no longer Brynden's place to pass the judgment. He just hoped that Robb would take off Theon's head before he headed off to the Twins for uncle Edmure's wedding. Brynden wished that the rain would let up so that he could get to Robb faster.

It had been a drizzle at first when they had left Seagard with two thousand veterans from the Fever River, but after a few days on the road it had begun to fall even harder. Robb would have to pass Oldstones before reaching the Twins and that was there they would meet before he returned to Seagard with mother while Robb continued onto the Twins with Uncle Edmure and an escort of five hundred men. The rest of Robb's men would follow Brynden back to Seagard and Brynden would send mother back north to Winterfell, where Bran and Rickon waited for her return.

Five days later, Brynden, Lord Mallister, and their men had finally reached Oldstones. The rain had not helped in their journey, as it had been difficult crossing the turbulent Blue Fork. Scouts had spotted them and Brynden saw that it was silver mailed fist of the Glovers. Even through all this rain, Brynden was just glad that they had finally made it. Robb had made camp upon a hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings.

His fellow riders called out to Robb's as they made their way through the camp. Some of them spat when they saw who was riding with them. Brynden looked over his shoulder at Theon while making his way to where Robb was. You will die soon enough, Turncloak. Looking back, Brynden smiled when he saw his brother and mother emerge from their tent. As much as he wanted to rush over and embrace them, Brynden reminded himself that he was a prince and a warrior. Their reunion would have to wait for he brought other news other than Theon that he knew Robb would no doubt want to hear.

"What took you so long?" Robb asked as he crossed over to Brynden and threw his arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. "It's good to see you, brother."

"I thought I'd never see you again," Brynden admitted, hugging Robb back. He smiled when he saw Grey Wind and Shadow greet each other. They released their grip and Robb moved to the side as Brynden made his way over to Mother. It had been so long since he had seen her. "Mother," he breathed out.

"Brynden," she cried out in joy as she threw her arms around him and held him in a grip tighter than Robb's. "I've missed you so much."

"You and me both," Brynden chuckled and freed himself from her embrace. "Your Grace, I brought a gift for you." He nodded to two of his guards and Theon was thrown into the mud, chained and gagged.

"Where did you find him?" Robb asked, not even glancing at Theon while looking at Brynden.

"At the Dreadfort. It seems that the Bastard of Bolton had been having some fun with him before I took his head. The men at the Dreadfort were glad to give him up when I demanded they surrender."

"You didn't raze the castle?"

"No. I let my emotions get the better of me. It won't happen again."

"I'm sure Lord Bolton will be pleased to hear that when he joins me at the Twins. You're lucky I haven't told him about your decision yet."

"What will be done with the Turncloak?" Brynden hoped that Robb would just execute him and be done with him.

"He dies once I have finished questioning him. But first, I hear that you and Lord Mallister bring news from Seagard that requires my attention."

"We do," Brynden nodded to Lord Mallister as he approached them with a fleshy balding man with a cringing look to him. "This is the captain of the Myraham, a merchant out of Oldtown."

"We'll take this inside. Have your guards watch over your prisoner. I will speak with him when we are done." Robb ordered.

Once they were inside, they waited for the other lords to join them. The Greatjon entered first, along with Galbart and Robett Glover, Maege Mormont, Uncle Edmure, and a young knight Brynden didn't recognize in a sand-colored surcoat blazoned with seashells. "Who is the newcomer?" Brynden asked, knowing that he would not like the answer.

"I forgot, you two have not met. Brynden this is Ser Raynald Westerling, brother to my queen, Jeyne Westerling." Robb introduced.

The young and lean man, with a thick mop of chestnut hair bowed. "Well met, Prince Brynden. It is an honor to meet the Blackwolf or do you prefer to be called the Demon of the North?"

"Call me whatever you like, I do not care." Brynden looked away from the southron knight and focused his attention on Robb. "Your Grace, shall we proceed with why we are all gathered here?"

"Of course," Robb nodded.

"Captain, tell them what you told me and Lord Mallister." Brynden ordered.

"Aye, my prince." He licked his thick lips nervously. "My last port of call afore Seagard, that was Lordsport on Pyke. The ironmen kept me there more'n half a year, they did. King Balon's command. Only, well, the long and the short of it is, he's dead."

"Balon Greyjoy?" His mother asked, with a surprised look. "You are telling us that Balon Greyjoy is dead?"

The shabby little captain nodded. "You know how Pyke's built on a headland, and part on rocks and islands off the shore, with bridges between? The way I heard it in Lordsport, there was a blow coming in from the west, rain and thunder, and old King Balon was crossing one of them bridges when the wind got hold of it and just tore the thing to pieces. He washed up two days later, all bloated and broken. Crabs ate his eyes, I hear."

The Greatjon laughed. "King crabs, I hope, to sup upon such royal jelly, eh?"

The captain bobbed his head. "Aye, but that's not all of it, no!" He leaned forward. "The brother's back. Euron. Crow's Eye, they call him, as black a pirate as ever raised a sail. He's been gone for years, but Lord Balon was no sooner cold than there he was, sailing into Lordsport in his Silence. Black sails and a red hull, and crewed by mutes. He'd been to Asshai and back, I heard. Wherever he was, though, he's home now, and he marched right into Pyke and sat his arse in the Seastone Chair, and drowned Lord Botley in a cask of seawater when he objected. That was when I ran back to Myraham and slipped anchor, hoping I could get away whilst things were confused. And so I did, and here I am."

"Captain," said Robb when the man was done, "you have my thanks, and you will not go unrewarded. Lord Jason and my brother will take you back to your ship when we are done. Pray wait outside."

"That I will, Your Grace. That I will."

No sooner had he left the king's pavilion than the Greatjon began to laugh, but Robb silenced him with a look. "Euron Greyjoy is no man's notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true. Theon is the rightful heir, but not for long. Now is the right moment for us to strike the Iron Islands and rid ourselves of the Ironborn once and for all."

The Greatjon grinned. "I look forward to spilling the blood of those squids. They'll rue the day they decided to attack the north."

"Your Grace," Uncle Edmure interrupted. "What of the Lannisters and the Tyrells?"

"Once we are done with the Ironborn we will control the Sunset Sea with the fleet that my brother has brought to us. Lannisport will be my first target. Ser Daven Lannister has reformed the remnants of his father's army from Oxcross at Lannisport. Brynden will lead the attack on the Iron Islands while I will lead the attack on Lannisport. With their forces depleted from their attack on the north, Brynden will be able to easily the Ironborn down. Once he is done, Brynden will join us in the west if Lannisport has not yet fallen by that time. If we move swiftly once my uncle's wed, we can all be in position by year's end. We will fall on the Iron Islands and Lannisport on the first day of the new century."

"I like this plan," said the Greatjon. "I like it well."

"Our enemies won't know what hit them when we are done with them," Brynden added. It seemed that he had made the right decision to not accept Asha's offer. He would have made the same mistake that Robb had made with Jeyne Westerling. She was nothing more than his mistress and Brynden vowed he would not make the same mistake again. It was time for the Ironborn to end.

"Lord Balon has left chaos in his wake, we hope." Robb continued. "Once the Ironborn are dealt with, the Lannisters will be next. The Tyrells will be dealt with when the lions are all but weakened. They may have the numbers, but their men are not battle-hardened like ours are. It will be up to the Blackfish and the river lords to stand their ground while we strike our enemies."

"We will, Your Grace," Uncle Edmure bowed.

"You are all dismissed. There are matters I wish to discuss with my family." The other lords bowed and took their leave until it was just Brynden, Robb, Mother, and Uncle Edmure left in the pavilion. "How many men did you bring with you?"

"Ten thousand," Brynden replied. "I hoped to bring more, but I thought it best to leave the rest in the north in case we are attacked again."

"It will be enough. Once this wedding is finished and the Freys are brought back into the fold, we will be able to concentrate our attacks on the south."

"I doubt Casterly Rock will fall easily. Its King's Landing we should be attacking, not Casterly Rock." Brynden pointed out.

"Aye, but Lord Tywin will look weak if we take his home. He will have nowhere left to run to when we march onto King's Landing."

"I hope you are right about this."

"So do I. Now if you will excuse me, I think it's time that I spoke with our prisoner."

* * *

It was damp and cold in the cell that Theon had been thrown into. He opened his eyes when he heard a familiar voice from outside his cell and was not at all surprised to see Robb standing in front of him. Theon had never expected that he would meet Robb like this. Robb who had been more a brother to Theon than any son born of Balon Greyjoy's loins. Now a Turncloak, who was but a traitor in Robb's eyes and had betrayed his trust and cause.

Robb's voice sounded sad and angry when he spoke. "Why, Theon?"

"I wanted to prove that I was a true Ironborn to my father," he replied. But he never would be. Theon saw that now. He was nothing but a failure in his father's eyes, a Greyjoy turned Stark. Even his own sister Asha had been seen more as his father's heir than Theon could ever hope to be. He doubted she would be seen as that now that she was defeated by Brynden Stark and was carrying his child. Not that mattered now since Theon would soon be executed for his crimes against the north. Not even the Night's Watch would spare him from his fate.

"You betrayed me," Robb said. "Did our friendship mean nothing to you? My brother was right not to trust and befriend you. I should have listened to him. You and I could have defeated our enemies together."

"I wanted to, but my father would hear none of it." He could still remember how much of a fool he had been when he had delivered Robb's terms of an alliance to his father at Pyke. I am the Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, and no man gives me a crown. I pay the iron price. I will take my crown, as Urron Redhand did five thousand years ago, his father had responded. It was the north his father had wanted to conquer, not the west. Theon doubted there was ever any hope of an alliance between their two Houses.

Theon remembered Brynden telling him about Asha's offer of an alliance between the north and the Iron Islands against the Iron Throne. Asha was a fool to believe that Brynden would ever consent to her terms. He had been surprised when Brynden told him he had thought about it after he had learned about Robb breaking his alliance with the Freys. Even if their father saw Asha as his heir, Theon doubted his father and the Ironborn would ever go through with it after Asha was defeated and impregnated by a Stark. His father would die before agreeing to those terms.

"Why didn't you warn me then? You still had a chance to warn the north of an Ironborn invasion." Not like it would have mattered seeing as how Brynden and had retaken all of the castles the Ironborn had captured along with all of their ships. He should have realized that Brynden would be wary of an Ironborn threat given how much the Stark had despised Theon.

"They were still my family, even if they did not see me as one of them. I chose the wrong family though, I know that now." He knew it would not be enough for all the damage he had caused to the north, but he didn't know what else to say. Ramsay would have succeeded in breaking him had Brynden not arrived any sooner. He probably would still be in the dungeons of the Dreadfort, being tortured by Ramsay until he submitted had Brynden not arrived. Theon didn't care anymore about what anyone thought of him, he was just ready for all of this to end.

"Aye, you did." Robb balled his hand into a fist and Theon saw that it was shaking in anger.

"Will it be you or Brynden who swings the sword?" Lord Eddard Stark had taught his sons that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Their way was the old way, the way of the First Men.

"I will, though Brynden would prefer to do it himself. Not that I can blame him." Robb replied.

"He is the bane of my people," Theon muttered. The Demon of the North.

"Once the rain has died down a bit, you will be brought outside to be executed. I should have been gone by now for the Twins." Robb told him, turning around and leaving Theon alone in his cell.

"I'm sorry," Theon whispered.

When Theon was brought out, it was grey and chilly, the storm had diminished to a steady, soaking rain, yet even so the camp was crowded. There were a few river lords, but mostly northmen, veterans of the Whispering Wood; Theon had fought beside, waiting for the traitor to be put to the sword. A headsman's block had been set up by a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. Rain fell all around them as Theon was led through the press, his hands still bound.

Robb waited beside the block, holding an unsheathed Ice with both hands. No doubt Brynden had lent the sword to Robb to use for the execution. He remembered all the times he had gone with them to watch Lord Eddard Stark to use the sword to execute deserters from the Night's Watch. As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's great dark sword, but now Theon welcomed it, waiting to be put out of the pain he had suffered from Ramsay.

Theon stepped in front of the block. Robb's face was as stern as Lord Eddard Stark's was when he took a man's life. "Kneel, traitor," Robb ordered. Theon knelt and laid his head upon the block.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to touch his skin and end his life.

"Theon Greyjoy," Robb said. "Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?"

"I have nothing else to say." The last thing he heard was the howl of a wolf and the crackling of thunder.

* * *

It was still raining by the time they had made it to Seagard. Out in the harbor, Catelyn spotted hundreds of ships all bearing the direwolf of Stark. One of those ships would be taking her back home to Winterfell. Catelyn would finally get to see her youngest sons again, but she would also be leaving behind her eldest sons as they remained in the south fighting their enemies. No doubt Brynden had wanted to accompany Robb to the Twins, but Robb had insisted that Brynden return to Seagard with his men. Catelyn just hoped Robb heeded her warning when he arrived at the Twins.

"Tread lightly, Robb," Catelyn had cautioned her son before they had gone their separate ways at Oldstones. "Lord Walder has a thin skin and a sharp tongue, and some of these sons of his will doubtless take after their father. You must not let yourself be provoked."

"I know the Freys, Mother. I know how much I wronged them, and how much I need them. I shall be as sweet as a septon."

"If you are offered refreshment when you arrive, on no account refuse. Take what is offered, and eat and drink where all can see. If nothing is offered, ask for bread and cheese and a cup of wine."

"I'll be more wet than hungry…"

"Robb, listen to me. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof."

Robb had looked more amused than afraid. "I have an army to protect me, Mother, I don't need to trust in bread and salt. But if it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, I'll eat it and ask for a second bowl."

Would five hundred men be enough, though? Catelyn doubted the loyalty of Lord Roose Bolton since she had learned what the Bastard of Bolton had

done to Winterfell. Now that same man would be joining her son at the Twins for her brother's wedding to Roslin Frey. The only men Robb had taken with him that she trusted were his guards, a few hundred veterans of the Whispering Wood, and her brother Edmure's modest retinue of friends, the lords of the Trident had remained to hold the riverlands while the king and their prince would attack the Iron Islands and the west. Most of the northern lords who had been with Robb since the Whispering Wood had gone with Brynden to Seagard under Robb's command, with only Lord Rickard Karstark remaining by her son's side.

Catelyn was starting to feel hope that they could win now that Brynden had joined his forces with Robb's. Still, even if Edmure and Roslin were happy in one another, if the Late Lord Frey could be appeased and his power once more wedded to Robb's, would they be able to defeat the Lannisters and the Tyrells? She had seen how many men the Tyrells could field at Bitterbridge when she had gone to treat with Renly Baratheon. Her sons may have never lost a battle, but would the momentum be enough to push them to victory against the Lannisters?

Brynden shared her doubts and she had been none too pleased when he had suggested abandoning the riverlands. They would be leaving her brother and the river lords at the mercy of the Lannisters and their allies. Her uncle the Blackfish was the Warden of the Southern Marches and she believed he would be able to hold the Trident against their enemies. "I hope you are right," her son had told her.

It was then that Brynden had confessed to her that he had fathered a bastard. Many men fathered bastards. Catelyn had grown up with that knowledge. She never expected her son to father one though, as she knew her son would not want his bastard to grow up like Jon Snow. Brynden had a man's needs, though, and this Asha Greyjoy had been his prisoner and he had taken her to his bed as his mistress. The Starks were not like other men and she had no doubt that like Ned, Brynden would want to bring his bastard home with him, and call the babe his "child" for all the north to see.

"Mother," Catelyn looked up and saw her son standing in front of the doorway to her chambers she was staying in until she departed for the north. Her son wore grey chainmail over bleached leathers, with Ice strapped over his back and the Valyrian steel dagger at his waist, and a fur-trimmed coat across his shoulders, with a shiny black direwolf, wrought in gold and obsidian, pinned its folds against his shoulder. "I bring news that I know you will be pleased to hear."

"What is it?" With everything that had happened, she could use some good news.

"A man named Sandor Clegane claims to have Arya Stark with him. He demands an audience."

"Arya," she gasped. There had been no word of her younger daughter's fate since Ned had died. Robb believed that she was dead, but Catelyn held hope that her daughter was alive since she had learned that her sons were alive and well in Winterfell. "What does the man want?"

"We're about to find out."

Catelyn followed Brynden out into the courtyard where it was still raining. She wondered if Robb had made it yet to the Twins. No doubt Lord Walder would take it as an insult if Robb arrived later than promised. Even in the rain, she saw the man's burned face when they approached and his big black stallion. Beside the man she saw a young girl with a long face and grey eyes she knew all too well. "Arya," she cried out in joy.

"Mother, Brynden!" Arya cried out, but was kept close to the man's side.

"What do you want for her, Clegane?" Brynden demanded, his face was cold.

"A reward and if you will have me, a place in your service."

"Why would I let you join my household? You are Joffrey's dog."

"Bugger Joffrey, bugger the queen, and bugger that twisted little gargoyle she calls a brother. I'm done with their city, done with their Kingsguard, done with Lannisters. From what I hear you could use all the swords you can get."

"How much do you want for my sister?"

"Three hundred gold dragons and a place in your household if you will have me."

Brynden frowned. "You will have to prove your worth and loyalty if I take you in."

"I'll kill Gregor for you, if you'd like. That should be enough to prove my worth. As for loyalty, I'll kill Lannisters for you. I'm done with them."

"So be it. We have enough enemies as it is. You will be watched though, until you prove you are loyal to our cause. I am done dealing with Turncloaks."

"I'm still getting paid for the girl?"

"You are," Brynden nodded.

"Then my sword is yours, my prince. I swear it by the old gods and the new." Sandor unsheathed his sword, knelt and laid it at her son's feet. Catelyn saw that Arya was none too pleased about it.

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise." As the man rose, Catelyn remembered all the times she had seen Ned accept a man's oath of service.

"Now, can we get out of this bloody rain?" Sandor asked as Arya rushed over to embrace Catelyn.

"Of course and you have my thanks for returning my sister safely to us," Brynden replied.

* * *

 **For any of you guys wondering, Brynden and Asha's child will be a girl, Lyanna. I'm probably going to do a D &D move with Asha and kill her off-page/off-screen, after giving birth to Lyanna. A lazy way to get rid of a character, but whatever. **

**Sorry for taking so long to update. Real life got in the way as I've been busy looking for a job. I miss the good old days when I didn't have to worry about that stuff.**

 **Reviews**

 **Silver Crow: Sorry to disappoint, but the two warrior wives thing won't be happening. As I said before, it was a spur of the moment thought, and I'm going to do what someone suggested and kill Asha off after she gives birth to Lyanna.**

 **Golden Dragon King: As I said before to someone else, Arya's plotline is still the same which is why I have not done her POV since the second chapter. Lol, Domeric's fate is the same as his cannon one's.**

 **Lilo23: Well the giants will certainly be joining the north since they are apart of Mance's host and Jon can't marry Val since Jon is sworn to the Night's Watch. As for Brynden and Daenerys, I doubt that will happen since Brynden wants nothing to do with the south after everything that has happened to his family and all Dany cares about is the Iron Throne and her "rights".**

 **Once More Into the Breach: As hopefully as the chapter has cleared up, Brynden was persuaded by his bannermen not to raze the Dreadfort, so you can put that problem to rest. For now let's just blame the wolfsblood that Brynden possesses for what happened last chapter.**

 **C.E.W: Stannis won't even stand a chance against Brynden's army. Brynden wouldn't even need to team up with Mance to deal with Stannis.  
**

 **DBZx Skyfall: The Martells allied with the Lannisters in cannon, despite the grudge they have, and the same for in this story.**


	13. The Rains of Castamere

**Responses for reviews from the last chapter will be posted in the next update.**

 **Enjoy and review.**

* * *

It was hard for Catelyn to believe that Arya was actually here with her when she had believed that she would never see her any of her girls again. The Lannisters had lied when they had told them they held both of her daughters in King's Landing. Now she understood why Ser Cleos Frey had only seen Sansa at court when he had gone to deliver Robb's terms after the Camps. It was not because Cersei Lannister was reluctant to parade Arya in open court, but because her daughter had managed to flee the capital with the Night's Watch. To think that she had once thought about trading the Kingslayer for her girls when the Lannisters only had one of them.

Her daughter had been through so much to get back to them, but she was safe now and home. Soon the both of them would be back at Winterfell with Bran and Rickon, but Sansa was still a captive in King's Landing. Catelyn wondered if she would ever get a chance to see Sansa again. No doubt she was growing into a beautiful young woman, but Catelyn would not be there to see her grow. She prayed that her sons would win this war and bring Sansa back home safely.

The rain had died down for a bit and Brynden decided that now would be the best time for her and Arya to sail back home. As she and Arya said their farewells to Brynden, Shadow prowled around them, stopping only to shake the water from his coat and bare his teeth at the rain. Brienne and Sandor Clegane stood guard as well, with some of Brynden's other guards: Smalljon Umber, Dacey Mormont, and Harrion Karstark. True to his word, Brynden kept Sandor with him at all times along with some extra guards and Shadow around until he proved he was loyal to their cause.

"I don't want to go," said Arya to Brynden. "I want to stay with you and fight." If Arya had it her way, Catelyn was certain her daughter would try and become a fighter like Brienne and Lady Mormont's daughters. She still couldn't believe some of the things Arya had done while she had tried to get back to them.

"Keep this up and I'll send you to the Twins instead. I'm certain your betrothed would love to meet you," Brynden grinned, messing with Arya's hair.

"Never," Arya frowned, swatting Brynden's hand away. Arya had been none to pleased when she had learned that she was betrothed to Elmar Frey as part of the conditions for Robb to cross the Twins. Elmar had squired for Brynden for a time before Robb had broken his pact with House Frey when he had taken Jeyne Westerling as his wife, and Catelyn doubted Arya would have to wed Elmar after the pact was broken. No doubt Brynden thought the same, but Arya didn't need to know that.

Sandor chuckled. "I pity the lad who has to take her as his wife."

"She's always been wild," Brynden told Clegane. "I'm surprised you managed to put up with her for so long."

"There were times when I wondered if she was worth all the trouble. She tried to kill me a couple of times."

"I'm right here you know," Arya said, folding her arms and glaring at her brother.

"I know," Brynden sighed. "Now go with Brienne onto the ship. Try and not to sneak back off when you're onboard. Mother will be worried sick if she lost you again."

"Do as your brother says," Catelyn told Arya and she watched as Brienne led her onto the ship.

"I wish you didn't have to go, mother, but Arya, Bran, and Rickon will need you more than I will," Brynden said.

Catelyn smiled. She wished she could be there for her sons when they needed her, but she knew that Brynden was right. Bran and Rickon were waiting at Winterfell for her return. They knew that she was coming, but she wondered how they would react when Arya would be with her. It had been so long since she had seen her two youngest boys. It was because of Brynden they were alive and well and the north was safe from the Ironborn.

"I wish I could be here for you and Robb as well. Look after each other, will you, and try to not give your brother a hard time about the Westerlings." She knew that Brynden resented the Westerlings for causing Robb to break his pact with the Freys, and was glad that Jeyne was not here for Catelyn knew her son would not be pleased to have her in his presence. Brynden had put up with Ser Raynald's presence to not start a scene in front of their lords.

"No promises," Brynden frowned. It should have been a Frey, Robb married, not a Westerling, Catelyn remembered Brynden telling her.

"Robb is your king before he is your brother," Catelyn reminded him. "That means Jeyne is your queen, whether you want her to be or not."

"I know that. Doesn't mean that I have to like it."

"None of us could have known what would have happened when Robb learned that Bran and Rickon were gone." Catelyn told him.

"But they weren't. If only I had gotten to Winterfell sooner, all of this could have been avoided." Her son still blamed himself for Robb's folly with Jeyne.

"There's nothing we can do about it now. What's done is done."

Brynden smiled. "Like my bastard with Asha?"

Catelyn frowned when her son mentioned his bastard. Family, Duty, Honor, though the child was her son's bastard, the child was still part of her family. Unlike Jon Snow, the child was her blood, and she had promised Brynden she would help take care of his child when they were born. "We've been over this already," Catelyn said.

"I know you still don't approve of my bastard, mother."

I don't, Catelyn thought. She remembered a time when her son had vowed to never father a bastard. "You are your father's son," Catelyn told him. She wondered if Ned would approve of Brynden's decision with his bastard, but dared not think about it. Instead she embraced her son and kept him wrapped in her arms, not wanting to let him go until it was time for her to board the ship. They will all be back at Winterfell soon, Catelyn told herself as the ship set sail for home.

* * *

Sandor Clegane was a big man, and the right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a grey eye beneath a heavy brow. His nose was large and hooked, his hair thin, dark. He wore it long and brushed it sideways, because no hair grew on the other side of that face. Since the Hound had joined his household, Brynden had taken the time to practice his swordplay with his new sworn sword. His sparring with the Hound reminded Brynden of his time at Winterfell when he had sparred with Jon Snow. He had never been able to beat him, but Brynden vowed the next time they met, he would be better than his brother.

Brynden remembered the first time he had met Clegane was at Winterfell when King Robert Baratheon had come to visit and name his father as the Hand of the King. The Hound had been with them in the courtyard the day Robb sparred with Joffrey. The crown prince barely knew how to use a sword and had barely landed any hits on Robb when they had sparred. It was then that the Hound had approached Ser Rodrik when Joffrey had suggested using live steel and had wounded his brother's pride. Now that same man was Brynden's sworn sword. He wondered what Robb would think of it when he found out about it.

The Hound was not considered one of the most dangerous fighters in the Seven Kingdoms for nothing. As Brynden had learned during their sparring in the courtyard. Brynden was strong and quick for his age, but the Hound was stronger and had more experience in combat than he did. He landed some blows on the Hound, but Clegane landed more as he hammered him relentlessly while searching for an opening. There was none and Brynden was soon defeated after he yielded.

It was moments like this that Brynden wished he had the swordsman skills Jon Snow had. Jon was a natural with the sword, and Brynden had to train to become the swordsman he was now. Even now Brynden wondered if he could hold his own against Jon and best him. No doubt his brother had also been training since he had gone to the Wall and joined the Night's Watch. With all the enemies he and Robb would soon face when he returned from the Twins, Brynden wondered if he would ever get the chance to see Jon again.

Not for the first time, Brynden wished that Robb would abandon the riverlands. It was a lost cause to hold the Trident against the Lannisters and the Tyrells. Even if his great-uncle, the Blackfish could hold the Trident against their enemies as his mother believed, Brynden knew it would only be a matter of time before the riverlands fell to the Lannisters. Throughout history when the Seven Kingdoms were divided, the riverlands would always be held by a different king and fall to another. Their kingdom stood a better chance at surviving if they just held the north. Let the southerners smash their armies against Moat Cailin. They would fail just like the Andals before them.

The Kings of Winter had held the north for thousands of years against the south until the dragons came and conquered Westeros. They would be able to do the same if they abandoned the riverlands, Brynden was certain of it. His mother would not like it, but Brynden was thinking about what was best for the north. The riverlands would be their downfall. Their numbers would slowly dwindle while they tried to hold the Trident against the Iron Throne. If only Robb would have the sense to see that holding onto the riverlands was hopeless with the numbers the Iron Throne now commanded.

With Arya safely returned to them by Sandor Clegane, all that was left was getting Sansa back and securing their new kingdom. So long as Jeyne did not have Robb's child, Brynden was his brother's heir. From what his mother had told him, they had tried often, but with no success. Brynden knew it would only be a matter of time before he would have to wed someone. No doubt it would be to some lady from a northern house. His marriage to Asha would never have worked out. Brynden saw that now.

Brynden looked outside as the rain continued to fall. How long was this rain going to keep up? He wondered if Robb had made it to the Twins by now. They were lucky that the rain had died down for a bit so that his mother and Arya could set sail for the north. Brynden was restless with doing nothing and wished there was something for him to do. If only Robb had let him accompany him to the Twins. Being at a wedding was better than sitting around and doing nothing.

With nothing better to do, Brynden decided to pay a visit to his prisoner's cell. It had been some time since he had last spoken to the Kingslayer. There was no need for them to speak to each other while they were in the north for Brynden had enjoyed the company of Asha as his bed warmer. Asha was at Winterfell though and there weren't that many women here for him to choose from to fuck. Dacey Mormont might be beautiful to look at, but she was part of his guard and Brynden was not interested in taking her as his wife should he bed her and get her with a child. No doubt Lady Mormont would insist that he marry her if that were to happen.

"Shadow, come," Brynden called out to his wolf as he made his way out of his chambers and to the dungeons. Guards were kept posted by the Kingslayer's cell day and night, and were ordered not to speak to him. He enjoyed leaving his prisoner in the dark of what was going on in the war as he had no doubt Ser Jaime worried over the fate of his family.

The gaoler admitted Brynden in to the Kingslayer's cell. Two guards stood outside his cell. "Leave us," Brynden ordered. They bowed and took their leave.

"My, isn't this a surprise?" Jaime asked when they were alone. He was fettered at wrist and ankle, each cuff chained to the others, so he could neither stand nor lie comfortably. The ankle chains were bolted to the wall. Brynden was taking no chances with this man. Even in his current state, the Kingslayer mocked his captors. "Am I being set free?"

"No, you are not." As if they would trade him back to the Lannisters for just Sansa.

"Then why are you here? Has there been any word from the capital or from my father? What of my sister? I have no doubt you take pleasure in leaving me in the dark with what's going on nowadays."

"That I do," Brynden admitted. "To answer your first question, your father is at King's Landing, where he will no doubt stay till the new year, when King Joffrey takes for bride a daughter of Highgarden." At least Sansa no longer has to marry that cunt. While the lions were busy with the roses, Brynden and Robb would be sacking and razing the Iron Islands and Lannisport. If only Robb had taken Margaery as his wife instead of Jeyne, this war with the Lannisters would be over and Highgarden would be their allies.

"Whatever happened to my nephew being betrothed to your sister?"

"The Battle of the Blackwater seemed to have changed all of that. The rose and the lion joined there, to shatter Stannis Baratheon's host and burn his fleet to ashes." And with it their hope of a Baratheon king sitting on the Iron Throne instead of a Lannister one. If his uncle Edmure had not engaged Lord Tywin's host on the fords, Brynden was certain Stannis would be sitting on the Iron Throne instead of Joffrey, and the heads of the Lannisters would be on spikes. They would have been able to negotiate with Stannis if he was on the Iron Throne.

"And my sister?" Jaime asked.

"She is well," though I wish that she wasn't. "As is your… nephew. The Imp also lives, though he took a wound in the battle." It was hard for Brynden to imagine that dwarf he had met at Winterfell could lead an army into battle. Obviously he had underestimated him.

"You and your brother must be feeling lonely."

"Not as lonely as you might think, Kingslayer," Brynden told him.

"You may have ships and men, but it won't be enough to defeat my father, as Stannis Baratheon learned when he tried to take King's Landing."

"You underestimate us and that will be your downfall." Brynden took his leave and had the guards put back on duty before leaving the dungeons.

Once he was back in his chambers, Brynden sat at his desk and flipped over one of his leather bound books of maps and opened it to the riverlands. His eyes found the Twins and traced it down to Oldstones. He was now certain that Robb was at the Twins already and was probably getting ready for their uncle Edmure's wedding to Roslin Frey.

Brynden wondered what kind of reception Robb and his men would get from the Freys when they reached the Twins. He wouldn't be surprised if Robb didn't receive a warm welcome after his folly with Jeyne Westerling. Robb had spurned their allies when he had taken Jeyne as his wife and queen. That Ser Raynald should not have accompanied Robb as the Freys would not be pleased by his presence, as Brynden was when he met him.

It was not that Brynden hated the Westerlings, for they were now part of his family, whether he wanted them to be or not, but he could not tolerate them for they were once sworn to their enemies, the Lannisters. They reminded Brynden of his failure for not arriving at Winterfell in time and informing Robb that their brothers were alive and well. Robb slept with Jeyne in despair over the loss of their brothers, not knowing that the ones Theon had put to the sword were false. It had been the same with Asha for Brynden, but at least he had the sense not to wed her soon after he had bedded her.

Flipping the pages of the maps over to the westerlands, Brynden stared at Lannisport. That was where Robb planned to attack while Brynden led the invasion of the Iron Islands. He wondered if the same trick Victarion Greyjoy had used when he had burned Tywin Lannister's fleet during Greyjoy's Rebellion would work with them, given that the Lannister forces in the west were scattered since Robb's victory at Oxcross.

With the Tyrells allied with the Lannisters however, Brynden knew they would also have to soon face the Redwyne Fleet in the sea. They controlled the sunset sea for now, and with the royal fleet of the Iron Throne annihilated in the Blackwater, the Redwyne fleet was the only fleet at sea that could now stop their new fleet. The Redwyne fleet would most likely be sent to deal with Stannis on Dragonstone once Joffrey was wedded to the Tyrell bride before they were sent to deal with their fleet. He wondered how Robb planned to deal with the Redwynes once the Iron Islands and Lannisport were dealt with.

There was nothing he could do about it now though. Planning for their future battles would have to wait until after Robb returned from Edmure's wedding to Roslin Frey. In the end it would be up to Robb to decide what their next plan of attack would be for he was his king. He just hoped that Robb wouldn't cause any more follies that they would have to clean up. They can't afford to make any more mistakes with their enemies growing in numbers. For now all he could do was wait for his brother's return from the Twins.

* * *

The drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted at one another below. Outside the rain still fell, but within the Twins the air was thick and hot. A fire roared in the hearth and rows of torches burned smokily from iron sconces on the walls. Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbor in the ribs.

Despite the festive mood in the hall, Robb could not help but brood over the loss of Lord Roose Bolton and his three thousand men. It was Ser Aenys Frey who had informed Robb of the loss. "Lannisters were on the Trident," Ser Aenys told him. "The river was a torrent by the time we made it to the Trident at the ruby ford and tried to cross. We had no choice but to ferry men across in small boats, of which we had too few. Most of mine were already across when the Lannisters attacked those on the other side. Lord Roose Bolton rallied his men as best he could, but Gregor Clegane and Lord Randyll Tarly attacked with heavy horse and drove them into the river. As many drowned as were cut down. More fled, and the rest were taken captive. I saw Lord Bolton get cut down by the Mountain."

Sooner or later he would have to deal with the Mountain when they were through with the Ironborn and Lannisport. "Is Clegane across the river, then?" He had asked.

"No," Ser Aenys had replied. "I left a few hundred men at the ford. Ser Perwyn and Olyvar were among the Freys we left behind. So long as the river runs high, Ser Gregor will not cross."

Now he only had five hundred men with him at the Twins. Heeding his mother's advice, Robb had asked for bread and salt and Lord Walder had granted his hospitality. The audience with Lord Walder had not been as painful as he feared, yet all the same he would be glad to be done with this. Once his uncle was wed, Robb would join Brynden and his other lords at Seagard to mount an attack on their enemies with the ships his brother had captured.

The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves' brains, and a leche of stringy beef. Yet Robb ate it uncomplaining, and his uncle was too caught up with his bride to pay much attention.

Husband and wife ate from a single plate, drank from a single cup, and exchanged chaste kisses between sips. Most of the dishes his uncle waved away. Poor Roslin's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Robb was seated between Alyx Frey and Fair Walda, two of the more nubile Frey maidens. "At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters," Walder Frey had said. "It would please an old man's heart." He had danced with each of the girls, with Edmure's bride and the eighth Lady Frey, with the widow Ami and Roose Bolton's widow Fat Walda, with the pimply twins Serra and Sarra, even with Shirei, Lord Walder's youngest, who must have been all of six.

Ser Wendel Manderly and Robin Flint sat near Robb, to the other side of Fair Walda and Alyx, respectively. Neither of them was drinking; along with Patrek Mallister and Owen Norrey, they were his guards this evening. A wedding feast was not a battle, but there were always dangers when men were in their cups, and a king should never be unguarded.

The musicians in the gallery might be numerous and loud, but they were not especially gifted. A few more hours, and the worst will be over. By this hour tomorrow he would be off to another battle, this time he would take the fight to the Lannisters. He would not lose, Robb vowed. The drums were pounding.

Above the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair all over three of his grandsons.

The sight of the dogs made Robb wish once more for Grey Wind, but his wolf was nowhere to be seen. Lord Walder had refused to allow him in the hall. "Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear, heh," the old man had said. "Rips out throats, yes. I'll have no such creature at my Roslin's feast, amongst women and little ones, all my sweet innocents."

"Grey Wind is no danger to them, my lord," Robb protested. "Not so long as I am there."

"You were there at my gates, were you not? When the wolf attacked the grandsons I sent to greet you? I heard all about that, don't think I didn't, heh."

"No harm was done—"

"No harm, the king says? No harm? Petyr fell from his horse, fell. I lost a wife the same way, falling." His mouth worked in and out. "Or was she just some strumpet? Bastard Walder's mother, yes, now I recall. She fell off her horse and cracked her head. What would Your Grace do if Petyr had broken his neck, heh? Give me another apology in place of a grandson? No, no, no. Might be you're king, I won't say you're not, the King in the North, heh, but under my roof, my rule. Have your wolf or have your wedding, sire. You'll not have both."

Robb was furious, but he yielded with as much courtesy as he could summon. He should have left Grey Wind with Brynden at Seagard, but there was nothing he could do about it now. This would all be over soon and Grey Wind would be by his side when he went into battle.

The cramped hall was in a constant uproar of guests and servants coming and going. A second feast, for knights and lords of somewhat lesser rank, was roaring along in the other castle, he knew. Lord Walder had exiled his baseborn children and their offspring to that side of the river, so that his northmen had taken to referring to it as "the bastard feast." Some guests were no doubt stealing off to see if the bastards were having a better time than they were. Some might even be venturing as far as the camps. The Freys had provided wagons of wine, ale and mead, so the common soldiers could drink to the wedding of Riverrun and the Twins.

Edmure was kissing Roslin and squeezing her hand. Elsewhere in the hall, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Danwell Frey played a drinking game, Lame Lothar said something amusing to Ser Hosteen, one of the younger Freys juggled three daggers for a group of giggly girls, and Jinglebell sat on the floor sucking wine off his fingers. The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening.

Seated betwixt his black oak towers, the Lord of the Crossing clapped his spotted hands together. The noise they made was so faint that even those on the dais scarce heard it, but Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen saw and began to pound their cups on the table. Lame Lothar joined them, then Marq Piper and Ser Danwell and Ser Raymund. Half the guests were soon pounding. Finally even the mob of musicians in the gallery took note. The piping, drumming, and fiddling trailed off into quiet.

"Your Grace," Lord Walder called out to Robb, "the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said, and Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?"

A score or more of Walder Frey's sons and grandsons began to bang their cups again, shouting, "To bed! To bed! To bed with them!" Roslin had gone white.

Robb raised a hand. "If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, by all means let us bed them."

A roar of approval greeted his pronouncement. Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown." Jinglebell hopped from foot to foot, his own crown ringing. "I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks," Alyx Frey called out boldly. "Does it take a worm to make them rise?" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, "I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!" and Alyx said, "Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. "And a mighty pike it is!" he proclaimed. Then the general cry of "Bed them! Bed them!" went up again.

The guests swarmed the dais, the drunkest in the forefront as ever. The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Robb to hear.

As man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Robb remained behind. He knew that he should have joined in Roslin's bedding, but at the moment he was wishing that Jeyne were here, but he had left his wife at Riverrun at his mother's insistence. Robb saw that others had remained behind as well. Lord Rickard Karstark no doubt believed this wedding to be a waste of time, and Petyr Pimple, Ser Whalen, and Merrett Frey were pouring themselves a cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding.

The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Robb recognized "The Rains of Castamere" when he heard it. Robb saw Edwyn Frey hurrying toward a door and wondered what he was up to. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?

Suddenly Robb gasped as he felt a burning sensation beneath his shoulder and looked down to see a quarrel sprouting from his side. The hall was soon engulfed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. The hard stone floor came up to punch him when he felt something puncture his leg. Struggling to get back up, Robb saw that half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes in the gallery. A table was flung down on top of him as crossbow bolts thudded into the wood. From where he was, Robb saw Robin Flint ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor.

All around him it was chaos as Robb struggled to get back up. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. He could hear his men screaming as they were cut down one by one. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. Looking at the door, Robb saw Ser Ryman Frey push into the hall, clad in steel from helm to heel. A dozen Frey men-at-arms packed the door behind him. They were armed with heavy long axes. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Lord Rickard Karstark's stomach.

In the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily.

Another arrow pierced through Robb's chest as he grasped the tabletop and struggled to his knees. The music suddenly stopped, all but one drum. Robb heard the crash of distant battle, and closer the wild howling of a wolf. Grey Wind, Robb thought. "Heh," Lord Walder cackled, "the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh."

"Why?" Robb asked, looking around the hall at all the bodies of his men.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Your Grace." Lord Walder replied.

Black Walder walked up to Robb and spun him around to face him and raised his long axe. When the edge of the axe struck him its bite was red and cold.


	14. King in the North

**I didn't reply to any of the reviews last chapter because I wanted to end on it with Robb's death. Sorry Robb, but you had to go. Now it's time for Brynden to rise as the King in the North.**

 **Also, email updates are finally working again, :).  
**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

"What's happened?" Tyrion asked when he entered the Hand's solar to find Cersei, Ser Kevan, and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered about Lord Tywin and the king. Joffrey was almost bouncing, and Cersei was savoring a smug little smile, though Lord Tywin looked as grim as ever. I wonder if he could smile even if he wanted to.

His father offered him a roll of parchment. Someone had flattened it, but it still wanted to curl. "Roslin caught a fine fat trout," the message read. "Her brothers gave her a wolf pelt for her wedding." Tyrion turned it over to inspect the broken seal. The wax was silvery-grey, and pressed into it were the twin towers of House Frey. "Does the Lord of the Crossing imagine he's being poetic? Or is this meant to confound us?" Tyrion snorted. "The trout would be Edmure Tully, and the pelt . . . "

"He's dead!" Joffrey sounded so proud and happy you might have thought he'd skinned Robb Stark himself.

First Greyjoy and now Stark. He had no doubt Robb's brother would succeed him as King in the North when he learned of what had happened and wondered how his father planned to deal with the Blackwolf. Not to mention that his brother was still Stark's prisoner. "Kings are falling like leaves this autumn," he said. "It would seem our little war is winning itself."

"Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion," Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. "Our lord father won this war."

"Nothing is won so long as we have enemies in the field," Lord Tywin warned them.

"Brynden Stark would be a fool to mount an attack against the combined power of Highgarden, Casterly Rock, and Dorne," the queen argued. "The river lords are no fools either and they will surely choose submission rather than destruction."

"Most," agreed Lord Tywin. "Riverrun remains, but so long as Walder Frey holds Edmure Tully hostage, the Blackfish dare not mount a threat. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood will continue to fight alongside Brynden Stark for honor's sake, but Stark will no doubt abandon the riverlands when he sees our numbers, and with the right inducement Jonos Bracken can be persuaded to change his allegiance and attack the Blackwoods. Stark will not bend the knee, but the others will when they see their king abandon them. I mean to offer generous terms. Any castle that yields to us will be spared, save one."

"Harrenhal?" said Tyrion, who knew his sire.

"The realm is best rid of these Brave Companions. I have commanded Ser Gregor to put the castle to the sword."

Gregor Clegane. It appeared as if his lord father meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. The Brave Companions would end as heads on spikes, and Littlefinger would stroll into Harrenhal without so much as a spot of blood on those fine clothes of his. He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. But when had the gods ever been especially good?

"They should all be put to the sword," Joffrey declared suddenly. "The Mallisters and Blackwoods and Brackens . . . all of them. They're traitors. I want them killed, Grandfather. I won't have any generous terms." The king turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. "And I want Robb Stark's head too. Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast."

"The only head that need concern you is Margaery Tyrell's maidenhead," Lord Tywin told Joffrey. "Robb Stark's body will be sent to Winterfell where it belongs, as will Sansa Stark."

Cersei looked at their father in disbelief. "Sansa is my hostage."

"Would you rather see your brother's head on a spike? Stark will want retribution when he learns what has happened to his brother."

Joffrey did not look pleased. "But he's a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I'm going to make Sansa kiss it."

"No." Tyrion's voice was hoarse. "She is no longer yours to torment. Understand that, monster."

Joffrey sneered. "You're the monster, Uncle."

"Am I?" Tyrion cocked his head. "Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies."

"I could have your tongue out for saying that," the boy king said, reddening. "I'm the king."

Cersei put a protective hand on her son's shoulder. "Let the dwarf make all the threats he likes, Joff. I want my lord father and my uncle to see what he is."

Lord Tywin ignored that; it was Joffrey he addressed. "Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. And he was passing fond of ripping tongues out as well. You could ask Ser Ilyn Payne about that, though you'll get no reply."

"Be quiet, Cersei. Joffrey, when your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you. And any man who must say 'I am the king' is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I've won your war for you, we will restore the king's peace and the king's justice."

Joffrey had that sullen, sulky look he got. Cersei had him firmly by the shoulder, but perhaps she should have had him by the throat. The boy surprised them all. Instead of scuttling safely back under his rock, Joff drew himself up defiantly and said, "You talk about Aerys, Grandfather, but you were scared of him."

Oh, my, hasn't this gotten interesting? Tyrion thought.

Lord Tywin studied his grandchild in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. "Joffrey, apologize to your grandfather," said Cersei.

He wrenched free of her. "Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock. " The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. "A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk."

"Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace," Lord Tywin said, with a courtesy so cold it was like to freeze their ears off. "Ser Kevan, I can see the king is tired. Please see him safely back to his bedchamber. Pycelle, perhaps some gentle potion to help His Grace sleep restfully?"

"Dreamwine, my lord?"

"I don't want any dreamwine," Joffrey insisted.

Lord Tywin would have paid more heed to a mouse squeaking in the corner. "Dreamwine will serve. Cersei, Tyrion, remain."

Ser Kevan took Joffrey firmly by the arm and marched him out the door, where two of the Kingsguard were waiting. Grand Maester Pycelle scurried after them as fast as his shaky old legs could take him. Tyrion remained where he was.

"Father, I am sorry," Cersei said, when the door was shut. "Joff has always been willful, I did warn you . . . "

"There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. 'A strong king acts boldly?' Who told him that?"

"Not me, I promise you," said Cersei. "Most like it was something he heard Robert say . . . "

"The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like Robert." Tyrion didn't want Lord Tywin forgetting that bit.

"Yes, I recall now," Cersei said, "Robert often told Joff that a king must be bold."

"And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne. You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father."

"Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I'd allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things . . . "

"It appears things needed to be said." Lord Tywin waved two fingers at her, a brusque dismissal. "Go."

She went, seething.

"Not Robert the Second," Tyrion said. "Aerys the Third."

"The boy is thirteen. There is time yet." Lord Tywin paced to the window. That was unlike him; he was more upset than he wished to show. "He requires a sharp lesson."

Tyrion had gotten his own sharp lesson at thirteen. He felt almost sorry for his nephew. On the other hand, no one deserved it more. "Enough of Joffrey," he said. "Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn't that what you said? I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?"

"I mislike that word," Lord Tywin said stiffly.

"And I mislike being left in the dark."

"There was no reason to tell you. You had no part in this."

"Was Cersei told?" Tyrion demanded to know.

"No one was told, save those who had a part to play. And they were only told as much as they needed to know. You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret—here, especially. My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important." He closed the shutters, frowning.

"But there is still Brynden Stark to deal with," Tyrion pointed out.

"I had hoped for Roose Bolton to deal with him, but Walder Frey feared he would go back over to the Starks when he learned that the north had been reclaimed from the Ironborn and expose him as a traitor."

"I might have known Frey would not have the stomach to act alone, but am surprised he still went along without Bolton. Walder Frey is a peevish old man who lives to fondle his young wife and brood over all the slights he's suffered. I have no doubt he hatched this ugly chicken, but he would never have dared such a thing without a promise of protection."

"I suppose you would have spared the boy and told Lord Frey you had no need of his allegiance? That would have driven the old fool right back into Stark's arms. Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner." When Tyrion had no reply to that, his father continued. "The price was cheap by any measure. The crown shall grant Riverrun to Ser Emmon Frey once the Blackfish yields. Lancel and Daven must marry Frey girls, Joy is to wed one of Lord Walder's natural sons when she's old enough, and Walder Frey becomes Lord Paramount of the Trident."

"Lord Paramount? What about Littlefinger?" Tyrion asked.

"The title will have served its purpose when he brings the Vale back into the fold. The only way to bring the Freys back into the fold was by granting them the title. For now the Starks can keep the north, but come spring we will deal with them when we are done with Stannis and the river lords."

"Do you truly believe Brynden Stark will free Jaime for his brother's bones and sister?"

"I will also give those loyal to him in the riverlands leave to follow him. The Blackfish, Jason Mallister, and Tytos Blackwood will no doubt follow their king north. We are well rid of these rebels. If he chooses to continue fighting then he shall meet the same fate as his brother."

* * *

What did that damn Stark boy want now? Jaime thought as he heard the door to his cell swing open. He was surprised to see the Stark boy enter with two of his guards along with his wolf, its dark golden eyes glowing in the dark. Jaime wondered what he or his family did this time to cause the boy to come grace him with his presence. Were it not for the fetters he was in and his limbs chained to the wall, Jaime was certain he would have been able to take down the boy's guards and wolf, but in the end he would die for it. Jaime was not ready to die just yet, and he knew that sooner or later he would be freed from this cell.

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," Jaime said as the Stark boy entered.

"The only reason you're still breathing is because your sister holds my sister hostage, Kingslayer."

"You mean sisters," Jaime pointed out. He may have been kept in a cell for over a year, dragged across the north in chains, but Jaime knew that both Stark girls were prisoners at King's Landing. They were the only reason why he was not killed in his sleep yet.

"Your sister lied about holding both my sisters hostage," the Stark boy said. "One of them escaped after your king had my father killed. You can thank your Hound for returning her safely to me."

Jaime was surprised when the Stark boy moved to the side and Sandor Clegane emerged from the shadows as he entered his cell. He couldn't believe that Joffrey's sworn sword was here now by Stark's side. Could this be one of Tyrion's or his father's ploys to free him by having Clegane feign allegiance to the Starks? If not, Clegane was a fool if he believed that the wolf would prevail against the lion.

"It's been a while, Clegane," Jaime greeted.

"Indeed it has, Ser Jaime. You look like shit since the last time we saw each other."

"And look at you. Have you sworn your sword to the Starks? You are a fool to have left your king's service."

"Enough," the Stark boy ordered before Clegane could respond while his wolf crept up to Jaime and bared its teeth at him. The boy was a fool if he believed that his wolf would scare him. "We did not come here for small talk."

"No, then why are you here? That's all we ever do when you come to visit."

"Not today." The Stark boy nodded his head and two of his guards approached him to unchain his hands from the wall. He would not show fear in front of this boy, Jaime vowed.

One of the guards shoved him in the back, and the other kicked his legs out from under him. When he hit the ground the Stark boy grabbed the chain between his wrists and used it to yank his arms out in front of him. The boy then stepped forward and unsheathed the dark greatsword, its ripples shimmering from the light.

"I can't take your head, but I will take something else. Retribution for what your family did to mine." Jaime did not like where this was going and he heard the wolf growl as the boy sauntered over to him.

He means to scare me. Jaime could see it now as he saw the other guards with their hands on the pommels of their swords with the wolf prowling around his cell. The Blackwolf wants me to piss my breeches and beg his mercy, but he'll never have that pleasure. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no boy would make him scream.

The light of the torches glowed along the ripples of the greatsword as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed.

* * *

Damn the Freys and the Lannisters, Brynden cursed as he knelt in the godswood of Seagard, with Shadow by his side. His brother was dead, murdered

by the Freys as a guest beneath their roof. The Red Wedding the small folk called it. To think that he could have met the same fate had he gone with Robb to the Twins for the wedding, Brynden shuddered at the thought. The Freys had hacked his brother's head off and sewed the head of Grey Wind in its place, and nailed a crown about his ears. Now the Lannister and Tyrell armies were marching onto the riverlands, with a Lannister army already massing at the Golden Tooth, with some of the river lords already bending the knee to the Iron Throne because their kin were held captive by the Freys.

Were it not for the current situation they were in, Brynden would have gladly marched on the Twins, sacked the castle, and put all of the Freys to the sword. But the Freys kept his uncle imprisoned and if he attacked, he would risk being attacked from behind by the Lannister army massing at the Golden Tooth. He had thirteen thousand men with him, but the Lannisters had more because of their alliance with the Tyrells. If he stayed here at Seagard, he knew it would not be long before he was surrounded and destroyed.

It was now impossible for him to hold the Trident and he doubted the Blackfish would be able to fend off their enemies with the river lords bending the knee to the iron Throne. The only thing keeping the Lannisters at bay for now was that he still held Lord Tywin's son as his prisoner. There was a truce for now between their forces and the Iron Throne's, but it was only a matter of time before the Lannisters decided to make their move. He had no choice but to accept Lord Tywin's terms if he hoped to survive to fight another day. The Lannisters could keep the Trident, but the north was his.

His lords would not like it, but Brynden saw no other option. They had been fighting for their independence and his sisters, and they would get it along with his brother's bones and crown if he freed the Kingslayer and abandoned the riverlands. It seemed that Lord Tywin was truly desperate to get his son back if he was allowing Brynden to keep the north and returning his sister and Robb's bones to him.

The Iron Throne could easily overwhelm what forces Brynden had at Seagard, but so far Lord Tywin had not moved against him because his son was his prisoner. Still, Brynden was surprised Lord Tywin had not diverted all of his forces to deal with the few river lords still supporting his cause. No doubt he wanted to focus all of his attention on finishing off Stannis Baratheon who had been defeated at the Blackwater. At least it would give him time to deal with the Ironborn and return back north to cement his rule.

Robb may be gone, but Brynden would continue with the invasion of the Iron Islands as they had planned. So long as the Ironborn remained they were a threat to his kingdom and his lords still wanted revenge for their attempted invasion of the north. Asha would hate him for wiping out her people, but her people brought this on themselves when they decided to attack the north. The Ironborn didn't have any strength left after the Fever River and this Euron Greyjoy would not be king for long.

Rest now, brother, for your reign is over. Brynden stood back up and left the godswood with Shadow trailing behind him. He could not grieve for his brother now for it would not be wise to show weakness in front of his lords. Brynden was their king now and he needed to be strong if he wanted his kingdom to survive. Robb would want Brynden to continue fighting for the north and he would do just that. The Trident was lost but holding onto the riverlands had been a lost cause to begin with. The only thing that mattered to Brynden now was securing the kingdom of the north.

"Summon the other lords," Brynden ordered as he approached the Smalljon and Dacey Mormont. "We must call a council. There are matters that need to be discussed."

"Yes, Your Grace," they bowed and took their leave while Brynden continued making his way back into the castle. A while ago he had been a prince, and now he was a king. Brynden never thought he would succeed his brother like this.

The war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. With Lord Edmure a captive at the Twins, the Blackfish had arrived at Seagard to take his place, abandoning Riverrun after Brynden had ordered him to, bringing with him a garrison of two hundred

men. Brynden Blackfish had not been pleased with the order, but the Trident was lost to them. The only other river lords to join them were Tytos Blackwood and Jason Mallister.

The northern lords sat opposite, with Brynden facing the Blackfish across the tables. Robett Glover sat at Brynden's left hand, and then the Greatjon, Galbart Glover, Lady Mormont, Ser Wylis Manderly, and the new Lord Harrion Karstark were to the right of Brynden. Brynden understood how Harrion was feeling right now after he had learned about his father's death. His companion had his own share of losses as well since they marched south. His two brothers were dead in the Whispering Wood, and now his own lord father had joined them.

Brynden brooded over the loss of his brother while the others argued about what they should do next. He had already decided what he was going to do but he wanted to hear what his other lords had to say.

Ser Daven Lannister had reformed the remnants of the Lannister host at Oxcross and had joined his forces with Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth. Ser Helman Tallhart still held Moat Cailin. Roose Bolton and his men had been wiped out by Ser Gregor Clegane and Lord Randyll Tarly at the fords of the Trident and Harrenhal had been retaken by the Lannister forces. Only four kings remained, with two of them being succeeded after their deaths.

Many of the lords bannermen wanted to march on the Twins at once, to meet Lord Walder and end the Freys for their treachery in the Red Wedding. They were fools if they believed they could take the castle before the Lannisters attacked them from behind. One of his lords suggested they ally with King Stannis and help sit him on the Iron Throne. If they did that, Brynden was certain Stannis would demand they bend the knee and renounce their claim on the north. Stannis would break before Brynden ever agreed to those terms. He would never let the north be ruled by the south again. The Greatjon was one of the few, to Brynden's surprise, to suggest they continue with their planned invasion of the Iron Islands. Others also voiced their thoughts about abandoning the Trident.

"The Trident is a lost cause, my lords," Brynden spoke at last.

"You cannot mean to accept Lord Tywin's offer, Your Grace," Jason Mallister said. "We all know he is the one who helped orchestrate the Red Wedding."

"And his son has paid for his father's crimes," Brynden replied. To make certain the Kingslayer never dare raise his sword against the north again, Brynden had cut off Ser Jaime's sword hand. The Kingslayer's screams had been like music to his ears as he enjoyed watching the Lannister cry out in pain, staring at his arm in shock over the loss of his hand. He could not kill him but he would make him suffer while he was still his prisoner.

"I do not like it either, my lords, but it's the best offer we're going to get," Brynden continued.

"And what of my nephew?" Brynden the Blackfish asked.

To ensure they kept their word with releasing the Kingslayer and abandoning the Trident, Lord Edmure would remain a prisoner of the Iron Throne. He was freeing one of his kin while another was kept in chains. There was no other option unless his lords meant to keep on fighting in the south and die far from home.

"There is nothing we can do for him. If we march on the Twins we risk being caught between the Freys and the Lannisters from the south. With the other river lords bending the knee we will be surrounded from all sides and slaughtered. For now all we can do is bide our time and wait until our enemies are weak. The north remembers, uncle, and Lord Edmure will not be forgotten, but we would risk losing everything if we put everything into one battle. Robb would not want that."

They would need to make alliances if they hoped to see the Lannisters fall from power. Brynden realized it would be no easy task with so many already bending the knee and declaring for the Iron Throne. His bannermen were all thinking about the present but Brynden was thinking about the future. For now Brynden needed to be focused with his plan on razing the Iron Islands. Once the Ironborn were wiped out and the Sunset Sea under their control all that would be left for them to face would be the Lannisters and the Tyrells.

By then Brynden hoped that Lord Tywin Lannister would be dead. It was clear to Brynden that Lord Tywin was why the Lannisters were still in power. Once he was gone it wouldn't be for long before the Lannisters fell into chaos.

Brynden wondered how his mother would react when she learned of Robb's demise and her brother's capture. His mother had lost so much since this war had begun. First his father and hers, and now it was her brother and Riverrun. At least she would have most of her children back with her that much was all that Brynden could hope to give her.

Brynden was thinking about how his brother had died during the Red Wedding, wishing that his brother were still alive, when Lord Harrion Karstark lurched to his feet.

"Our king is right, my lords," he said, silencing those who were whispering. "King Robb is gone, but his legacy lives on. We have all lost kin in this war, some more than others. If we choose to stay and fight until our last breath, all of the men we have lost will have fought and died for nothing. Lord Tywin can have his son back if it means achieving our dream of a free north. Is that not what we have been fighting for? The Lannisters may have won, but at least we will live on to fight another day." Lord Karstark eased his longsword from its scabbard and pointed it at Brynden. "I have fought beside the Blackwolf since the Green Fork and will continue to do so until the day I die." He knelt and laid his sword at Brynden's feet. "The King in the North!"

"I do not like leaving my nephew and my home to the lions, but I know now that I will accomplish nothing if I stay and fight," the Blackfish said. "It will only be meaningless bloodshed." He unsheathed his sword and knelt beside Lord Karstark. "The King in the North!"

The Greatjon stood. "The King in the North!" he declared, reaching back over his shoulder, drawing an immense two-handed greatsword and laid it beside the others. His other bannermen did the same and Brynden was surprised to see Mallister and Blackwood rise and draw their blades as well, bending their knees and proclaiming him their king, even if it meant abandoning their castles to the Lannisters. The hall rang with the sound of their voices as they all shouted:

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

* * *

 **I tried to emulate Brynden's King in the North scene with Robb's from the book and Jon's from the show. Hopefully you guys like it. As for the Tyrion POV, it was more or less the same as in cannon, and mostly just filler, but I wanted to include it to show why Walder Frey went ahead with the Red Wedding and why Roose Bolton was killed.**

 **As for Tywin's offer to Brynden in exchange for Jaime, I hope I got his character right with how he would have dealt with Brynden while he still held Jaime prisoner. We all know Tywin would have done anything to get Jaime back, not to mention that he even started a war for Tyrion. With Brynden, he accepted the offer because he got to keep the north, gets Sansa along with Robb's bones back.**

 **Next chapter will probably be the setup or invasion of the Iron Islands. Also, in case any of you have not read the Forsaken sample chapter for TWOW, I plan on having Brynden gain Euron's valyrian steel armor when he is done with the Ironborn.**

 **So I can't get this idea out of my head and will probably start working on the first chapter once I've posted this chapter. It will be a Arryn son story, born from the union of Jon and Rowena, and will take place before and a bit after the rebellion. Unlike this one, the Arryn story will be shorter as I plan on ending it after the conclusion of Robert's Rebellion. The oc will be paired up with Ashara.  
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 **Reviews**

 **Chapter 12 -**

 **Greywing101:** **The Martells did not send troops to support the Lannisters army in cannon, and it is the same for in this story.**

 **Deiron Lionheart: Sorry mate, but I'm sticking with my decision to kill Asha off.**

 **onyxhaider98: Dacey and Smalljon are part of Brynden's guards in this story. Lord Karstark went with Robb because he is loyal in this one since Catelyn did not release the Kingslayer in this story. Jeyne is not pregnant as she never was in cannon either, so she won't really matter, and yes, Brynden hates the Westerlings because they are the reason Robb broke his oath to the Freys.**

 **Once More Into the Breach: Lol, it's cool man, I enjoy long reviews.**

 **Chapter 13 -**

 **Vandal: For now, Tywin will let Brynden call himself King in the North until Stannis is dealt with. As for Littlefinger, I have yet to decide what to do with him.  
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 **Supremus85: Sorry you're disappointed, but I believe Walder Frey would have gone through with it anyway without Roose as he is also rewarded with the title of Lord Paramount and gets rid of the Tullys and Robb for slighting his house.**


	15. Last Storm

**Damn you guys, I never expected this story to hit over 400 followers and get over 200 reviews in fourteen chapters. Thanks for all of your support, especially to all of my repeat reviewers.  
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 **Sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted to get the Iron Islands out of the way and didn't know what else to write for this chapter as I was pretty much done after the siege of Pyke. Hopefully the battle makes up for the short chapter.  
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 **As always, enjoy and review.**

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Trails of smoke could be seen from the distance as the town of Lordsport was aflame from the burning projectiles being launched into the town from the trebuchets loaded on the decks of their ships. The buildings were on fire, and the houses, taverns, and inns were crumbling underneath the weight of the bombardment. Brynden couldn't help but wonder if this sight had been the same when his father had been part of the invasion force alongside King Robert Baratheon. If only Robb could have been here to see it, but he was gone now, and it was up to Brynden to finish what they had started.

In the end his bannermen had agreed to Lord Tywin's terms, but while the Iron Throne still held his uncle Edmure hostage, they held Lord Tywin's kin at Moat Cailin, sons of Ser Kevan Lannister: Martyn and Willem Lannister. They did not have the same value as the Kingslayer but they were still his kin and should the Lannisters break their truce, Brynden would not hesitate to put them to the sword. Unlike Robb, Brynden understood there were no rules during wartime. His brother's follies had almost cost them a kingdom and their lives, and Brynden vowed he would not make the same mistakes his brother had made.

Shouts of fire could be heard among the longships of the Winter Fleet as burning projectiles were launched into the town. The Ironborn's defenses had been meager at best when they had launched their attack. No doubt this King Euron had been securing his claim when they had begun the attack. The Ironborn had suffered heavy losses on the Fever River and at Deepwood Motte, with most of their skilled fighters slaughtered, it was only a matter of time before they were wiped out. To draw out their forces, Ser Brynden the Blackfish had led an attack on Old Wyk whilst the Greatjon subdued Great Wyk.

They received barely any resistance from the Ironborn side as most of their ships were either scattered or sunk. The Ironborn drew their strength from the sea, but with their ships scattered and destroyed, they were no better than brigands. They had spent ten years repairing all of the damage that had been done from the last war only for it all to be laid to waste. All of this could have been avoided if Balon Greyjoy had accepted his brother's terms, and now they were paying for their treachery. After today the Ironborn would be no more.

Brynden liked to believe he was doing the Seven Kingdoms a favor by wiping out the Ironborn. All they were known for throughout their history was raiding and reaving, contributing nothing to the mainland other than being a thorn in their sides whenever they caused trouble and had to be put down. At least once the Ironborn were dealt with the only enemy Brynden would have to worry about was the Iron Throne. This would all be over soon and they would be bringing back spoils of war when they returned to the north.

He signaled the captain of the ship. "Give the signal, prepare to land."

"At once, Your Grace," the captain bowed and relayed the order to the ship's signaler who notified the other ships as the message was relayed along the invasion fleet of the northern army.

One by one, rowboats were lowered into the waters, filled to the brim with northerners bearing the sigils of the houses they served. Amongst the banners Brynden spotted in the boats were: the white sunburst of the Karstarks, the mailed fist of the Glovers, Lady Mormont's black bear, Umber's roaring giant in shattered chains, and Brynden's black direwolf racing across a ice-white field.

His men were hungry for vengeance and blood as they began to make their way to the shores of Pyke while the bombardment of the island continued. Brynden watched as the first wave of northerners landed off the shores of Pyke and began to form up. He was not at all surprised to see any form of return fire from the Ironborn, given that his ships were still bombarding them with projectiles. These Ironborn were savages and no doubt preferred to use a sword or an axe compared to a bow and arrow like Theon Greyjoy used to use before he was executed for treason.

Besides, only a fool with a bow would be brave enough to step out amidst the carnage that was happening to loose an arrow. No doubt they were waiting to retaliate when the bombardment stopped. Brynden couldn't help but wonder if there were any defenders in the town to begin with. A good a time as any to stop any amphibious landing was when the enemy was landing their soldiers, as Brynden had learned when he had defeated Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet on the Fever River.

But these were Ironborn they were dealing with and were not very bright when it came to strategy and tactics in warfare, otherwise they would have had the sense to realize they would never have stood a change against the north with their doomed invasion. Brynden wondered if this Euron Greyjoy was as mad as Theon had told him. No doubt he would find out soon enough when they breached the walls of Pyke. He may not be part of the first wave of attackers, but Brynden was going to make certain that he was part of the second wave.

"Captain," Brynden shouted as he made his way to one of the nearest boats with his guards and Shadow trailing behind him. "As soon as we land, begin prepping the siege engines for transport and halt with the bombardment."

"It will be done, Your Grace," the captain acknowledged.

"Sire, would it not be best for you to wait until the walls have been breached before joining the battle?" Lord Harrion Karstark asked as he joined Brynden in one of the rowboats along with Shadow and most of his guards.

"And miss all of the fun? It's a new century, my lord, and I will not sit back while my men fight and die for me."

Whilst those at King's Landing would be attending a royal wedding for King Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell, Brynden would be celebrating his victory over the Ironborn. As soon as he had learned that the Iron Throne was planning for a royal wedding on the day of the new century, Brynden knew that it would be the perfect time to strike the Iron Islands whilst the Lannisters were focused on their wedding. They had prepped their siege engines and trebuchets for transport whilst exchanging prisoners with the Iron Throne.

"Blackwolf! Blackwolf! BLACKWOLF!" His guards chanted as their boat was lowered into the sea. The rowboat touched the waters with a light splash, spraying water aboard its small confines before the oars were brought out and the men started rowing. With each passing moment, the shores of Pyke got closer and closer.

The bombardment had stopped when the first boat had made landfall and his men were spilling out onto the port and beach, getting into formation and marching into the burning town. Brynden looked at their surroundings and wondered where the Ironborn were lurking.

As they got closer to shore they passed by empty rowboats that were making their way back to the longships to pick up even more men. He could smell and taste the salt in the air as a spray of water splashed against his face. The boat jarringly came to a halt as it made it ashore. Brynden was one of the first off the boat as he disembarked, drawing Ice as he did so with Shadow bounding out as well and shaking the water from his fur. Behind him, the sound of feet hitting land or splashing water could be heard.

HAAroooooooooooooooooooooooo, the warhorns sounded as Brynden led his men into the burning town. In the distance, Brynden saw a small square stone keep crowning a hill, and overlooking the burning town. Pale green flags drooped from the squat corner towers, each emblazoned with a shoal of silvery fish. Brynden had no doubt Robett Glover and his brother were leading the siege of the keep, but it was Pyke that Brynden was after. Hundreds and thousands pairs of feet thundered across the wet ground, charging forth deeper into the port town as they fought their way to Pyke.

Brynden watched as the Hound cleaved one of the Ironborn in two, blood gushing out from the corpse as it sprayed across the ground. It seemed that the Ironborn were finally showing themselves when they realized that the bombardment had stopped. Brynden hacked off the heads of two Ironborn with Ice in a single stroke as they charged at him with longswords in their hands.

"LEAVE NO SURVIVORS!" Brynden cried out as he saw some Ironborn try to yield.

Ironborn and northmen clashed as steel and iron met in combat. "SHIELDS!" Brynden ordered as his men formed a shield wall and advanced on a group of Ironborn being pushed back. He smirked when he saw Shadow tackling an Ironborn into the ground and tearing out his throat before making his way onto his next victim. Soon more Ironborn surged from the small streets, smashing themselves against their shields. Eventually the shield wall broke and spears were discarded as they unsheathed their weapons and engaged the Ironborn in close combat.

The Ironborn fought with no discipline or skill, fighting with the tenacity and ruthlessness of berserk warriors whilst his northerners were more disciplined and skilled in battle. Eventually all of the Ironborn in the port were slaughtered and they began to make their way up a path that led into bare and stony hills that would eventually take them to Pyke. Brynden and his guards waited for the catapults and siege engines to arrive so that they could break through their walls.

It was nigh on sunset when they reached the walls of Pyke, a crescent of dark stone that ran from cliff to cliff, with the gatehouse in the center and three square towers to either side, when their catapults and siege engines arrived and began to hammer at their walls whilst the guards atop the battlements tried to fight off their attackers. Brynden had his men attack where Robert Baratheon had made his own breach in the walls.

"It will not be for long before their walls fall, Your Grace," Smalljon told him as they waited for the trebuchets to arrive whilst the catapults hammered away at their walls.

"Have our men form up and get ready to breach. I want those trebuchets in position when the walls are breached," Brynden ordered.

"I will see to it at once, sire," Smalljon bowed and took his leave.

Soon there will be no more Ironborn, Brynden thought as he watched the catapults hammer at the walls. Your reign is over before it has even begun, Euron Greyjoy. Alongside his guards, Brynden waited for the walls to fall as the catapults hammered against the walls. Brynden found sieges to be dull and wished that the bloody walls would collapse already. His fingers brushed across the pommel of Ice as he looked forward to spilling the blood of more of his enemies. Hurry up, Brynden thought as he saw some of the Ironborn guards fall from the battlements as they were struck by arrows.

It was then that he heard the walls crack and Brynden grinned as he heard the dull thunder of the collapse. His men cheered as they began to swarm in through the rubble. "WITH ME, MEN!" Brynden shouted, charging forth to join the others as they poured through the broken curtain wall. Shield walls were formed, advancing over corpses whilst striking down any Ironborn that flew forth to meet them. Beyond the curtain wall were half a hundred acres of headland hard against the sky and the sea.

Whirling Ice in his hand, Brynden took the hand off one of the Ironborn that were foolish enough to charge at him before taking his dagger out and plunging it into his skull. The Hound, Brynden saw was hacking his way through a line of Ironborn as they tried to push him back. Brynden doubted there was any Ironborn here who could match Clegane's ferocity in battle. The fighting in the castle was fierce as northmen and Ironborn clashed against each other.

"So you're the one who's been causing me all this trouble," a voice called out, causing Brynden to swerve around as he raised Ice to parry his foe's attack and faced his opponent.

A black leather patch covered the man's left eye while his right was blue as a summer sky. His hair was black as a midnight sea, and his face was smooth and pale beneath his neat dark beard. Yet what made him stand out amongst the Ironborn was not his appearance, but the armor he wore. He was clad in a suit of black scale armor like nothing Brynden had ever seen before. Dark as smoke it was, but the man wore it as easily as if it was the thinnest silk. The scales were edged in red gold, and gleamed and shimmered when they moved. Patterns could be seen within the metal, whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols folded into the steel.

Valyrian steel, Brynden recognized it at once as he noticed the similarities the armor shared with Ice. His armor is Valyrian steel. In all the Seven Kingdoms, no man owned a suit of Valyrian steel. Yet here one was now right in front of him. Such a beauty did not deserve to be in the hands of an Ironborn. Brynden had decided at once that he was going to claim that armor for his own after he slew the man.

Instead of responding to the man, Brynden lashed out swinging Ice at the man and his greatsword bounced off his armor as his foe evaded the attack. It seemed that he would have go for the man's head if he hoped to come out of this duel as the victor. The man laughed as he traded blows with Brynden while the unique sound of Valyrian steel crashing against Valyrian steel rang through the halls. Drawing out his dagger, Brynden made a feint with Ice as he lunged forward before swinging his dagger around and plunging it into his neck.

"Thank you for the armor," Brynden whispered in the man's ears before sliding the dagger out and shoving the body onto the ground. His men cheered as Brynden decapitated the man and raised his head into the air.

"Take no survivors! Kill them all and raze their castles!" Brynden shouted, watching his men pick off the survivors as the Ironborn tried to yield. They never would have given them the chance to yield if they were in their place so why should they? The time of the Ironborn was over.

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"Why was this matter not brought before me before we set sail for the Iron Islands?" Brynden demanded, looking down at the map of the north, clad in his new Valyrian steel armor taken from the fallen King Euron Greyjoy. He wore a surcoat over it with obsidian direwolves clasping it.

"We did not receive the raven until days after we had set sail, Your Grace," Galbart Glover told him.

"There is still time for us to arrive to the Night's Watch aid if we set sail with just our mounted men," the Blackfish added. "The Lannisters are in disarray at the moment with the death of their king and Ser Helman holds Moat Cailin with a thousand men."

All the more reason why Brynden was furious to begin with. Had he known about the threat the King-Beyond-the-Wall poised against the Night's Watch, he would have marched onto the Wall instead of sailing for the Iron Islands. With the amount of men the Night's Watch possessed, Brynden knew it was only a matter of time before they fell against a force of a hundred thousand. Jon was at the Wall and Brynden feared for his brother's safety. Whilst his brother was a skilled swordsman, one man could not possibly hope to defeat a host that size on his own.

"How many mounted men do we have?" Brynden asked.

"Including the ones from the Whispering Wood, five thousand, Your Grace," the Blackfish replied.

Like the Ironborn, the wildings were not a disciplined army and would most likely break at the first charge of their northern cavalry. If the wildings were still north of the Wall, Brynden and his army would be able to surprise them if they sailed up the Gorge and joined his host with the rangers of the Shadow Tower. Their attacks were focused on Castle Black and Brynden hoped they would be able to make it on time to save the Night's Watch from their imminent destruction.

"Will they be enough?"

"They will be, sire, so long as our outriders are able to screen our movements."

"Then we will set sail for the Gorge at once and link up with the rangers of the Shadow Tower. From there we will have to rely on their rangers to guide us to where the wilding host is launching their attack on Castle Black." So much for going back home to see his family. It seemed that would have to wait for Jon needed him more at the moment.

"Give the orders, have our men ready to set sail on the double." Brynden commanded. His bannermen bowed and took their leave.

Despite the looming battle he was going to be facing, Brynden couldn't help but smile as he thought about King Joffrey's death and the current situation the Lannisters were in. He found it amusing that King Joffrey was poisoned at his wedding as his brother Robb was slain at their uncle Edmure's wedding. No doubt they would be fighting for power with a boy king now sitting on the Iron Throne.

Brynden remembered during the king's visit at Winterfell when Tommen fought his brother Bran with wooden swords. The young prince wore so much padding he looked like a stuffed goose and after Bran had knocked him to the ground, Brynden had laughed when he saw the prince struggle to get back onto his feet. It was hard for him to believe that same boy was now a king, not to mention that his uncle the Imp was being blamed for murdering King Joffrey. Whoever was responsible for the king's death, Brynden didn't care for it was one less enemy for him to worry about.

He made his way over to Shadow and knelt down to scratch his ears. "We'll be seeing Jon and Ghost soon, boy." Brynden chuckled as Shadow licked his hands.

Father, Robb, and Grey Wind were gone, but the pack still lived on. Brynden would do whatever it took to keep his family safe. He was the King in the North now and he had a kingdom to protect, a Wall to defend, and a brother to save. His war was not over yet.

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 **So yeah, we're finally getting to the Wall and Brynden's reunion with Jon along with his meeting with Val. I decided to stick with the Battle of Castle Black for next chapter instead of pushing it back as I originally had planned.**

 **Reviews**

 **Mordart: After this the north will have gained Red Rain and Nightfall, along with Euron's valyrian steel armor. Not sure about any other valyrian steel weapons the Ironborn might have, but I can always add those details in later, lol.  
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 **master fireball: The wildings will be recruited to help fight against the Others, not the south.  
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 **Blaze1992: The wildlings and Jon Snow will be showing up next chapter.**

 **jean d'arc: It's only the Mallisters, Blackwoods, and the Blackfish that are abandoning the Trident. The rest of the river lords are bending the knee to the Iron Throne. As for abandoning their homes and going into exile, it has been done before when there were separate kingdoms, such as the Manderlys fleeing the Reach and joining the north, the Blackwoods fleeing the north and settling on the Trident.**

 **Droosh: Brynden won't be leaving the north undefended while he invades the Iron Islands as it has been explained in this chapter. As for taking care of Tywin and Joffrey, well we all know that they will be out of the picture soon.**

 **Captain Fuckew McHugerage: After all this time since the Company of the Rose has been formed, I doubt they are still northmen. As for the Skagosi clans, they are already sworn to Winterfell, Brynden doesn't need to win their loyalty.**

 **Ace123: Olenna and Littlefinger will still be the ones responsible for the Purple Wedding. Brynden is in the Iron Islands and too far away to even arrange an assassination. The Iron Islands will become a wasteland after this like Hardhome so it will not be joining the Kingdom of the North.**

 **Freakdogsflare: The Tyrells are still going to be with the Lannisters as Margaery will wed Tommen after Joffrey is dead. As for the Iron Islands, they can't really join the fold when they're all wiped out.**

 **DannyBlack70: This is mainly a response to your review in the Battles for the North, but yeah, I posted in the GoT section mainly to draw those who read in the GoT section to my story since its in the ASOIAF section. As for Brynden and Dorne, I doubt it since the North and Dorne are basically on opposite ends of the continent and too far away for an alliance to matter, not to mention that Brynden probably wouldn't want to separate his family after he had just gotten them all back.**

 **WarBible: The Durrandon story idea sounds interesting, and if I do decide to do it, I'll make it a VisenyaxOC pairing. For now though I just want to be focused on this story since if I work on too many stories at once, I won't be able to keep up with them and will eventually abandon them.**

 **Starecrepily: That part will be coming up next chapter.**

 **onyxhaider98: Before I respond to your review, I just want to point out that it's Brynden not Bryndon. Not sure about the Vale siding with Brynden, but his daughter definitely won't be ruling the Iron Islands after this. Thanks for the other suggestions, not certain I'll be using most of them, but thanks for the suggestions anyway.**


	16. Two Kings

**Originally I had planned to push the Battle of Castle Black back a bit so that Brynden could arrive to parley with Mance instead of attacking him, but I scrapped that as I felt it would be too easy for Brynden and the Free Folk to unite against the Others and their army of the dead.  
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 **Enjoy and review**

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It was beneath the Wall near Castle Black where Brynden Stark would face Mance Rayder and his wildling host of a hundred thousand men. They had ridden hard from the Gorge after they had anchored their ships and at the Bridge of the Skulls, they had helped the brothers of the Night's Watch defeat a band of wildlings and slew a raider known as the Weeper. From there, Ser Denys Mallister and his rangers joined Brynden's host and led them along the ranger roads. His uncle the Blackfish led the outriders to screen their movements, as they got ever closer to Mance Rayder's host.

Now they waited for the signal of the attack as they laid in wait beyond the wildling camp. In order to completely break the wildling host, Brynden had divided his host into three columns where they would then attack the wildling camp from three angles. The wildlings would have no time to counter them when the attack began. Brynden would lead one of the columns while the Greatjon would lead another and Harrion Karstark would lead the last one. Brynden was certain the wildling host would break from the first charge. He was going to show these wildlings why he was called the Demon of the North.

His guards since the Green Fork were amongst those who would ride with Brynden into battle along with those who had fought alongside Robb in the Whispering Woods. The rest were all waiting for the Blackfish and the rangers of the Night's Watch to draw the wildlings out for them to be slaughtered. He could only hope that the brothers at Castle Black were still alive and holding the tunnel against the wildling host. From what Brynden had learned from Ser Denys Mallister, his brother Jon Snow was amongst those defenders.

What is taking them so long? Brynden was growing restless as he waited and listened for the signal of attack. He couldn't help but wonder if they were too late and the wildlings had already taken the Wall and were invading his kingdom. Despite his worry, Brynden continued to wait for he trusted the Blackfish and the brothers of the Night's Watch who were with him. They would do what was needed to be done if they hoped to defend the Wall. Shadow was growing anxious as well, Brynden could sense it. He was not the only one who hungered for the blood of their enemies.

It was moments like these in battle that Brynden hated. Whilst the Blackfish and the rangers of the Night's Watch did their part, all Brynden could do was wait for the battle to begin. Not for the first time, Brynden wished Robb were here but he was gone forever. He had lost one brother and Brynden vowed he would not lose another. We heard your call for help, Jon, don't die on me now.

The Smalljon, Dacey Mormont, Ser Wylis Manderly, and Shadow trailed behind Brynden as he rode back and forth along the line of riders who were to follow him into battle. Father had always said you should let the men see you before a battle. Brynden took his father's words as he made his way down the lines. Looking at his men, Brynden could tell they were also restless and wary as they waited for the Blackfish to give the signal. Most of these men had fought alongside Robb in the Whispering Woods and Brynden envied them. Brynden found himself thinking back of his reunion with Robb at Oldstones as they parted ways, promising they would fight alongside each other in the coming battles, never knowing that it was for the last time.

Where are they? Brynden wondered. He had given the Blackfish joint command with Ser Denys Mallister to screen their march. "The wildlings will not know you are coming," the Blackfish told him before riding off. "They are not like the Lannisters or the Greyjoys and are a poor match against our army."

"How many fighters does Mance Rayder have?" Brynden had asked Ser Denys Mallister.

"Thirty thousand at least, but most of them will be on foot. Your men should be more than enough to break their army."

Let us hope he is right. It was then that Brynden heard the low moan of a warhorn. Even from where they were positioned, Brynden saw the brothers of the Night's Watch falling back as they baited the wildlings to follow them. Fools, Brynden smirked as he heard the wildlings shouting war cries and waving clubs and bronze swords and axes made of flint, galloping headlong at their ancient enemies. No doubt they believed they could easily take on the brothers of the Night's Watch, not knowing that they were not alone. His men were readying themselves as he waited for the right moment to sound their attack.

Though he could not make out all of the enemy camp, Brynden was surprised to see other brothers of the Night's Watch emerging from the trees on the eastern side of the camp. Eastwatch men, Brynden thought as another group of wildlings broke off the west side to met their foes. Had someone else also answered the Night's Watch call for help? Brynden doubted the Iron Throne would send help with the death of their king and wondered who else could have answered their call.

With most of the wildlings drawn out by the black brothers, Brynden decided now was the moment to strike. He raised his lance and Shadow lifted his head and howled. He put his spurs to his horse as the howl was answered with warhorns from his own men and cheers as they joined him in the charge. They raced into the forest towards the unsuspecting wildlings. He heard the warhorns of the Greatjon's and Karstark's men coming from the north and northwest, the sounds crashing together in a great cacophony. Shadow bounded beside him howling as they charged into battle.

The brothers of the Night's Watch dispersed as they descended on the wildlings like a wave of steel. This was what he was born for; Brynden smiled as he lowered his lance and struck one of the wildlings down, blood spraying from his corpse. Robb was always the better lance, but at the moment it didn't really matter as he was picking off wildlings one by one. Shadow leapt from his side to tear out a poor wildling's throat as Brynden lowered his lance and slashed it across the chest of another one.

To his surprise, Brynden cursed as trumpets began to blow amidst all the chaos, loud and brazen. Neither wildlings nor northerners used trumpets, only warhorns. His men and the wildlings knew that and the sound sent the wildlings running in confusion, some toward the fighting, others away. Now he was certain that another army had answered the Night's Watch call, but who? Just as Brynden had done except for on the east side, riders began emerging from the east, the northeast, and the north; three great columns of heavy horse, all dark glinting steel and bright wool surcoats. Southrons, Brynden cursed as they joined the northerners in picking off the wildling army.

For now it seemed they had no choice but to work with them. "DON'T ATTACK THEM UNLESS THEY ATTACK YOU!" Brynden shouted, plunging his lance into another wildling before pulling it out.

His horse began to go wild and Brynden fought to keep control of it when he saw giants climbing onto mammoths. He stared in awe at the giants for a moment, remembering the stories Old Nan used to tell about them. It was hard for him to believe that he was staring at an actual giant. Gaining control of his steed, Brynden galloped off to join his guards as they smashed into a wildling band trying to get into battle formation. The wildlings were panicking as the two armies began to overwhelm them.

From the eastern side, Brynden saw more and more men pouring from the trees, not only knights now but freeriders and mounted bowmen and men-at-arms in jacks and kettle helms, dozens of men, hundreds of men. A blaze of banners flew above them. Amongst them, Brynden saw yellow, so much yellow, yellow banners with a red device, whose arms were those?

All around the battlefield, bands of wildlings were trying to stand and fight, but the northerners and southrons rode right over them. They might have the numbers, but they had steel armor and heavy horses. In the thickest part of the fray, Brynden spotted a wildling standing tall in his stirrups, wearing a red-and-black cloak and raven-winged helm. It had to be the wildling's leader, Mance Rayder, Brynden thought as he saw the wildling raise his sword and rally his men to him.

"WITH ME!" Brynden shouted at his guards, leading a group of riders to where the wildling was, smashing into them with lance and sword and longaxe. He spotted the wildling's mare go up on her hind legs, kicking, and a spear took her through the breast. "I WANT HIM ALIVE!" Brynden ordered, his men surrounding the wildling as he yielded to them.

Around them, the wildlings began to break, running away from the battle and throwing down their weapons. "It seems I was right about you being Mance Rayder," Brynden told the man as several of his guards took his sword and lifted him up.

On the eastern and western edges, archers were loosing fire arrows at the tents. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.

"Bring him with us," Brynden ordered. "Let's go and see who this other army belongs to."

As the dust began to settle, Brynden and his men met the commanders of the other army by Mance Rayder's white fur tent, raised on a spot of high stony ground right on the edge of the trees. Brynden was surprised to see a woman, garbed all in reds, as the standard bearer. Stannis Baratheon, Brynden knew at once who he was dealing with, remembering his mother telling him about the man having a red priestess by his side when he had parleyed with Renly Baratheon at Storm's End.

Despite the tension in the air, Brynden was relieved to see Jon when grey met grey. As much as he wanted to rush over and embrace his brother, he knew that now was not the right time. Their reunion would have to wait. Beside him was a beautiful young woman with a baby in her arms, fair, slender, full-breasted, and graceful, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.

"Stark," Stannis Baratheon greeted as Brynden approached with the Blackfish, Shadow, and his guards by his side. "I thought you would still be at the Iron Islands."

"Was at the Iron Islands and now I am here to defend my kingdom," Brynden said. "What are you doing here so far North?" He put his hand on the pommel of Ice while Shadow bared his teeth.

"The same reason you are here, to fulfill my duty to the realm," Stannis replied.

"Now that you have fulfilled your duty, I would ask that you leave. You are trespassing in my kingdom."

Stannis grinded his teeth, glaring at Brynden. "Westeros only has one king, Stark, and that is not you. You are nothing more than a usurper, like your brother and that wildling beside you."

"I'd think carefully of what you say here if I were you," Brynden growled. "I have ten times your numbers. Should anything happen to me, my men will not hesitate to slaughter all of yours."

"There is no time for this," Jon interrupted. "You two should not be fighting each other when there is a greater threat out there."

"Your brother is right, Brynden Stark," the red priestess added. "There is a greater threat out there that you cannot possibly imagine."

"We shall see," Brynden said.

* * *

"Stannis Baratheon is a fool if he believes that I will bend the knee to him."

Jon watched his brother scowl and curse whilst Shadow was curled up by the brazier, with his eyes closed. The last time Jon had seen Shadow was at Winterfell when Ghost was still bigger than him, now Jon was certain the black wolf was bigger and leaner than his own. At the entrance to his brother's chambers, his armor stood sentry; a suit of black scale armor that Jon recognized at once to be Valyrian steel. Brynden had claimed it from Euron Greyjoy and in the room were several other Valyrian steel swords taken from the Iron Islands: Nightfall and Red Rain, and to Jon's surprise, Brightroar, the ancestral sword of House Lannister.

Its pommel and crossguard flamed gold, whilst its scabbard glimmered gold with rubies smoldered red. Most Valyrian steel was a grey so dark it looked almost black, as was true here as well. But blended into the folds was a red as deep as the grey. The two colors lapped over one another without ever touching, each ripple distinct, like waves of night and blood upon some steely shore. Jon couldn't help but wonder how Lord Tywin would react when he learned Brynden Stark had his house's ancestral sword claimed from Euron Greyjoy.

It was hard for Jon to believe that the man had been to Valyria, but Euron Greyjoy was mad according to Brynden and Brightroar along with the Valyrian steel armor was proof that he had been there. Amongst the other treasures Brynden had brought back with him was a shiny black and twisted horn, tall and bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs. Brynden had no idea what it was meant for but kept it anyway as he had found it amongst the treasures on Euron Greyjoy's ship.

"Your Grace," Jon said softly, "what do you intend to do with the wildlings you captured?"

Brynden smiled as he rested his crown on his desk. "You don't need to call me that when we are alone, Jon. I may be a king and you a man of the Night's Watch, but we are still brothers, no matter what."

"Like uncle Benjen and father?" Jon asked.

"I suppose, though father was a lord whilst I am a king." Brynden chuckled then frowned as silence filled the room. "I never wanted this, you know, to be a king. It was Robb who was meant to rule but those damn Freys betrayed him and butchered him and his men when they had guest right. The northern houses look to me now as their king and I doubt they would be pleased if I bent the knee to some southron king."

"Stannis came to our aid though when we needed it, as did you. The threat of what lies beyond the Wall is greater than that of the war you are fighting now. Stannis understands that and so should you. At least hear what he has to say."

"Oh I've heard of what he wants. He wants me to bend the knee, become his Warden of the North, and have me wed the wildling princess. He also wants to settle the giants and the wildlings on the Gift."

"Father dreamed of resettling the Gift though." He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though . . . but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Jon understood why his brother was not so eager to agree with Stannis's terms, but when when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy, and he had to convince Brynden of the true threat.

"Aye, he and uncle Benjen used to talk of it, but I doubt they were thinking about wildlings when they were discussing it. Even if I did agree to Stannis's terms, I doubt my lords would enjoy the thought of having wildlings as their neighbors. Even your brothers will not like it, no more than mine."

Better than adding them to the army of the dead. "I know you don't yet believe of the threat the Others and their wights pose, but the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us."

"So you also agree with Stannis that I should make this alliance with the wildlings against the… Others?" His brother hesitated and Jon knew he was still reluctant to believe what Jon had told him.

"I do."

"And here I thought you'd take my side and not agree with the southron cunt. What kind of brother are you?" Brynden sighed, running his hand through his dark brown hair.

"The kind who wants us all to live. You and I both know that the north won't be able to defeat the Others on your own."

"We'll last longer than Stannis can with the number of men he has." His brother grumbled.

"But eventually you'll fall."

"I won't bend the knee, Jon. Stannis can keep all of the lands south of the Neck if he takes the Iron Throne, but he'll never rule the north. We both know however Stannis will break before he agrees to those terms."

Jon found himself remembering something Donal Noye once said about the Baratheon brothers. Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends.

"You'll have to bring that up with Stannis."

"You aren't making things easy for me, Jon, and neither is Stannis. No doubt he hopes that I will bend the kneed and give up my crown before your sworn brothers have finished deciding who shall lead them."

"You should at least accept his terms to allow the wildlings to pass through the Wall," Jon told him.

Brynden had taken over five thousand wildlings captive after the battle whilst Stannis had captured another thousand. Over a dozen giants and three thousand wildlings had been killed when Brynden and Stannis had attacked. Stannis had been none to pleased when Jon had delivered Mance Rayder's son, Val, and the Horn of Winter to Brynden.

Brynden sighed, closing his eyes. "I will think about the wildlings and bring the matter to my bannermen."

"I was also hoping you would let Mance Rayder see his son. Val has been asking to see him. It would be a . . . a kindness."

"Perhaps I could use that to my advantage to get Val to agree to become my wife. I recall you saying that I would have to be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at sword point."

"So you are thinking about taking Val as your wife," Jon grinned.

"She's a beautiful woman and lovely to look at. Only a fool would not want to take her as his wife. Never thought my wife would be a wildling however. Stannis believes the match will be necessary however to assure the loyalty of our new subjects."

All that was left now was to convince his brother to bend the knee, but like Stannis, Jon was certain Brynden would break before he gave up his crown. He only hoped they came to an agreement before the Others and their army of the dead came to attack them.

"What about a truce?" Jon suggested.

"Stannis will never accept it. He would rather have me bend the knee than ally with him against the Lannisters and the threat of what lies beyond the Wall. The man has offered these generous terms to me because he knows that all of the north is behind me. One command from me is all that it takes to see him and all of his men slaughtered."

This was not the Brynden, Jon remembered at Winterfell. The war had changed his brother, Jon saw, just as his time at Castle Black had changed him. "You need each other if you hope to prevail against the Others. Is a crown really worth all the death and destruction the white walkers will bring when they come?"

Brynden frowned. "I will speak with Stannis about the matter later. For now you should leave and see if your sworn brothers have chosen their new lord commander yet."

Jon took his leave and left his brother to brood in his chambers alone. He just wished that there were some way to convince both Stannis and Brynden to join forces. If not only pointless bloodshed would follow and their forces would be weakened and would not be able to hold the Wall for when the true enemy came.

* * *

"You are a fool if you believe that I will allow you to continue calling yourself the King in the North." Stannis growled, grinding his teeth, whilst glaring at Brynden Stark.

This was not going well, Davos noted as the two kings glared at each other whilst their guards kept their hands on the pommels of their swords. The black wolf Stark had brought with him also was baring his teeth. It was his first time seeing a real direwolf and Davos would be lying if he wasn't afraid of the beast that was present in the room.

"And what are you a king of, may I ask? It will not be long before Dragonstone and Storm's End fall to the Lannister and Tyrell armies. Your cause is lost. You need me far more than I need you." Brynden replied.

"My lords," Davos interrupted. "Now is not the time for pointless bickering. We all know that the real war is between the living and the dead. We should set aside our differences if we hope to survive the coming storm. To do that we need Stannis on the Iron Throne, not a boy king who is a pretender and a bastard born of incest."

"I will not bend the knee to you, but I will help you in your war against the Lannisters and the white walkers. Win the Iron Throne and defeat the white walkers, and I will consider bending the knee to you. That is my price if you want me to be your Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You have until the new Lord Commander is chosen to decide." Brynden Stark stood up and took his leave, with his guards and Shadow following him.

Stannis seethed in silence once they were gone. "The boy is indeed bold enough to be a Stark. What do you think of his terms, Davos? He asks for too much but we need the north if we hope to win this war."

"As do you, Your Grace. You want him to take a wildling woman as his wife and allow thousands of their kind through the Wall. No doubt you would ask for the same thing if you were in his place."

"He has no right though, just like his brother he is a rebel and a traitor who means to steal the northern part of my kingdom. To gain his fealty I must take the Iron Throne and defeat the foe I was born to fight."

"It is as I told you, Your Grace. You must save the kingdom to win the throne instead of winning the throne to save the kingdom. Only then will the other lords see you as their one true king."

"So you believe I should accept his terms? Tolerate his presence whilst he calls himself king in order to defeat my enemies and claim what is rightfully mine."

That or die in the north. Davos had no doubt that Brynden Stark was serious about slaughtering Stannis and his men should anything happen to him. He remembered what happened to Renly and Ser Cortnay Penrose, and believed the northerners would not be so forgiving as the storm lords were. These northerners were more loyal to the Starks of Winterfell and would not welcome a southron as their king.

"The north is your only hope if you want to win the Iron Throne. They have a fleet and battle-hardened men. Once the wildlings are let through, you will have even more men to fight for your cause. You should accept his truce if you want to win this war."

"You forget, Davos that Brynden Stark has not agreed about the wildlings matter. So be it, I will discuss with Brynden Stark about his terms after I have met with the men of the Night's Watch. They are taking too long with their choosing of the next Lord Commander." Stannis got up and left the room with his guards trailing behind him.

The hard part was done and now Davos hoped the alliance would hold if they hoped to prevail against their enemies. It was no easy task convincing Stannis to agree to a truce with Brynden Stark, but the threat of what lied beyond the Wall would be enough to get a man like Stannis Baratheon to agree to Brynden Stark's terms.

* * *

 **I had a difficult time writing Stannis's character in this chapter and I hope that I didn't have him bend too much in this update. Even with Brynden Stark in control of the north, I still believe Stannis would have gone north to defend the Wall against Mance Rayder.**

 **Also I'm kind of stuck with what to do with Stannis after this and am wondering what you guys think about what I have planned for him. At first I thought about killing him off on the journey from Dragonstone to the Wall by storms but decided against that. Instead, I'm thinking about killing Stannis off when he retakes Dragonstone from the Lannisters when he sets sail with the Manderly fleet to bring the dragonglass to the Wall whilst the Winter Fleet attacks the Reach to draw the Redwyne fleet away from Dragonstone.  
**

 **Reviews**

 **Vandal: Sansa was exchanged for Jaime along with other prisoners taken during the Red Wedding except for Edmure. She was not present at the Purple Wedding and as for the poison, well that will just remain a mystery.**

 **Shadowwolf1997: They were all purged and the Ironborn were wiped out.**

 **Blaze1992: What I meant by the wildlings fighting in the south is that they'll mostly be helping with the defenses of the Wall against the Others and wights.**

 **onyxhaider98: I might use the Vale plot later on with Brynden seeking out the Lords Declarant for their support against the threat beyond the Wall.**

 **viciosodiego: I might have Brynden seek out Daenerys's aid against the Others. If I do, I will push the Mereen plot back a bit for Brynden and Daenerys to meet. Not sure yet but I will probably use show elements if I do go down that road.**

 **Andrews31: Brynden razed them.**

 **alec-potter: True, but an alliance can always be formed later with Dany without marriage.**

 **C.E.W: I doubt I'll be using the Children of the Forest that much in the story, but the south will too busy fending off attacks from the new alliance of Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark to unite.  
**


	17. For the Pack

**Hey guys, sorry for my long absence. I needed a break from writing for a bit to clear my mind. With the recent Game of Thrones trailers for season 7 however, I got pumped to start writing for this story again. Here is the final chapter of the third book.**

 **With the fourth book, I'm going to be pulling some events that take place in the fifth book to be in the fourth one.**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

Demon of the North, that was all Jaime heard most of the small folk and the court talk about since he had arrived at King's Landing. They no longer seemed to talk much about his son, King Joffrey's death and his brother's failed trial by combat. Word had spread quickly throughout the Seven Kingdoms about the purging of the Iron Islands. No one had much sympathy for the Ironborn, as all they ever did was raid, rape, and steal, but they talked about how Brynden Stark had razed their castles to the ground and slaughtered all of its inhabitants. Jaime never thought the Stark boy had it in him to do something Lord Tywin would do, but it seemed he was wrong about that.

Jaime would not at all be surprised if some bards made a song about the destruction of the Ironborn and Brynden Stark's wroth. The people are already starting to fear Brynden Stark and believe he is the second coming of Tywin Lannister. His father had obliterated two houses for rebelling against his house, but Stark had obliterated a great house and all of their bannermen.

His sister did not at all seem to mind that much about what had happened to the Ironborn. "Robert should have scoured the isles after Balon Greyjoy rose against him. He smashed their fleets, burned their towns and broke their castles, but when he had them on their knees, he let them up again. He should have made another island of their skulls. I say good riddance to them. Brynden Stark did us all a favor by getting rid of those Ironborn scum."

Lord Tywin on the other hand realized the Starks could become a greater threat now that the north held control of the Sunset Sea with their Winter Fleet. He however had been more furious when he had seen Jaime's stump. "Who did this to you?" Lord Tywin had demanded.

"Brynden Stark," he had replied. He wondered if his father would try and do the same thing to the north as Brynden Stark had done to the Ironborn.

Jaime was still bitter about the loss of his sword hand and vowed he would get his revenge on Brynden Stark the next time they met. Stark knew he could not take his head when he had learned of his brother's death and had taken his hand in his wroth with his dark greatsword. Not like the Starks would care how the Lannisters would react given that the only prisoner they had of value was Edmure Tully. Catelyn Stark would fear for her brother's safety, but Jaime doubted Brynden Stark would given that he had abandoned the riverlands and the river lords had submitted to the Iron Throne.

At the moment however Jaime was more concerned with the fate of his brother. Words and swords had failed him and soon Tyrion would be on the executioner's block. Jaime would not let that happen. He had spoken with Tyrion after he had visited Cersei and his father, and doubted his brother was responsible for the murder of Joffrey. Joffrey. My blood. My firstborn. My son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's.

Cersei and Lord Tywin would no doubt be furious when they learned what Jaime planned to do but he was not going to sit back and watch his brother get executed for a crime he did not commit. Jaime hoped that Varys upheld his end as he had threatened the eunuch's life if he did not help him free Tyrion from his cell. The hour of the wolf had arrived and with the city all asleep, Jaime got up and headed out to where his brother was being held. He had a brother to rescue.

* * *

It was no easy task dealing with the wildings, Stannis Baratheon, and the Night's Watch. It didn't help that Castle Black was not big enough to house two hosts and two kings. Both Brynden and Stannis Baratheon resided in the King's Tower, despite their uneasy alliance. He remembered all too well about what his mother had told him about Renly Baratheon's untimely death at Storm's End. Brynden could only hope his threat of his men putting Stannis and his men to the sword should anything happen to him keep him at bay from killing him. He had no intention of dying just yet, not when the north needed him now more than ever.

There was also the matter of the election of the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Brynden Stark had no love for the wildlings, but if what Jon said about the threat beyond the Wall was true, he would have to negotiate with the new Lord Commander to take the Gift away from the Night's Watch and allow the wildlings to settle down on the Gift. His bannermen would not like it, but it was better to have the wildlings as allies than to be sending them back beyond the Wall to become wights.

The wildlings had suffered losses during the battle beneath the Wall, but they were still a force to be reckoned with if they decided to band together for another assault on the Wall. With Mance Rayder captured, three thousand of his best slain, Brynden wondered who would lead the wildlings with their king now a prisoner. If Brynden decided to form an alliance with them, he only hoped that their new leader could be reasoned with. Winter was coming for all of them and they needed to fight together if they hoped to survive the coming storm. Brynden understood that, even if he had no love for the wildlings or the southron king Stannis.

Stannis Baratheon was no easy man to deal with. Despite being surrounded by a host outnumbering his own, the man still demanded that Brynden bend the knee and be his Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He had no intention of serving under a man whose cause was already failing, though he had considered it if Stannis had a chance at winning the Iron Throne. With Joffrey dead and a boy king now sitting on the Iron Throne, Stannis could still have a chance at winning the war. The only reason he was still alive was because Brynden needed the dragonglass that was at Dragonstone. It was only a matter of time before Dragonstone fell to the Lannisters. Once Dragonstone fell, Stannis Baratheon's cause would be lost and Brynden had no intention of going down with the man.

Making his way to where Val would be, Brynden looked out one of the windows and spotted the various banners that flew from the Lance, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shieldhall, and other buildings that had stood empty and abandoned for long years. Amongst the northern banners, the southron banners looked out of place in the north. He glimpsed a seahorse, a field of birds, a ring of flowers, a turtle, swordfish, and crossed trumpets amongst the familiar northern banners. There were guards outside the door when Brynden arrived, northmen with spears. They bowed and let him inside.

As of late, Brynden had taken the time to get to know Val, the one the black brothers called the wildling princess, whilst the brothers voted on their new Lord Commander. The surest way to seal a new alliance was with marriage, but Brynden knew it would take more than just a marriage to get the north and the wildlings to work together. He understood their match would be necessary to ensure the loyalty of the wildlings, remembering the other Stark Kings in the North who had secured alliances to expand their kingdom through marriage. Brynden wasn't certain he was ready for marriage however.

His bannermen would no doubt object to the match, most likely preferring to have one of their own daughters to be his queen and Lady of Winterfell instead of a wildling woman. At least he was not bound by a betrothal like Robb was that cost him his life when he wed a Westerling girl instead of a Frey of the Crossing. He supposed he was one of the lucky few who got to meet their betrothed instead of meeting them on their wedding night, like his father and mother did during Robert's Rebellion. Still, Brynden couldn't help but wrestle with the idea of taking a wildling as his wife and queen. He would be the first Stark of Winterfell in history to have a wildling woman as his queen.

"Your Grace," Jon greeted when Brynden entered the room. Jon's black brother greeted him as well along with the other wildling woman who had taken to nursing both her own son and Mance Rayder's.

"Jon," Brynden smiled. "I was hoping if I could speak with Val alone for a bit."

"Of course," Jon took his leave along with his black brother and the wilding woman.

"Is it wise for you to be alone with a wildling?" Val was certainly a fierce woman and not at all like some of the other ladies Brynden had met. She was a woman of the free folk and Brynden had experienced first hand how skilled she was with a dagger when they had first spoken in private. Despite her position, Val did not at all greet him as many others would when speaking to a king.

"You and I both know that I can take care of myself," Brynden told her.

"Even without your wolf by your side it would seem," Val smirked.

"I figured Shadow could spend some time with his littermate. They haven't seen each other in a long time." Just like Brynden and Jon. Despite his desire to spend some time with Jon, Brynden had other duties to attend to and he had noticed Jon sparring a lot as of late in the practice yard with his other fellow black brothers.

"What do you plan to do with Mance? I've heard some of the queen's men desiring to see Mance given to the fire and your northmen wanting his head."

"Mance is a deserter from the Night's Watch. The penalty for that is death, but you and I both know that we need him if we are to secure an alliance with the wildlings."

"Along with our marriage," Val added. "Do you truly believe that our marriage will heal all the bad blood between our people?"

"No, but it's a start." Many of his bannermen would not forgive him, but Brynden trusted Jon's word about the threat beyond the Wall, despite his doubts. He would be leaving all those wildlings out there beyond the Wall to fate worse than death, along with children like Mance Rayder's son. Better to have them as allies than enemies. He would rather deal with unruly subjects than with thousands of blue-eyed wights.

"The free folk choose their own kings, not like you kneelers," Val told him. "They don't follow names, or little cloth animals sewn on a tunic. They won't dance for coins, they don't care how you style yourself or what that chain of office means or who your grandsire was. They follow strength. They follow the man."

"They will have to change if they hope to survive behind the Wall on my lands. The Starks of Winterfell have always been the Kings in the North since before Aegon's Conquest and will continue to be when I am long gone."

"They won't kneel for you," Val said.

"I don't want them to kneel for me, I want them to fight with me when the threat beyond the Wall comes. My people won't like it no more than yours will, but we need to learn to live together if we want to survive," Brynden argued. "I never asked to be a king, but the mantle was thrust onto me when my brother was betrayed and murdered at a wedding. It may not seem like it now but our marriage will help secure an alliance between my people and yours."

"Let me see Mance. I want to show him his son. Spare his life and I will agree to the match. You won't have to worry about me slitting your throat when we are wed if you do," Val begged.

Brynden was surprised by how blunt Val was when she told him she would not slit his throat; despite knowing she was speaking to a king. She truly was a fierce woman indeed. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her. In many ways, Val reminded Brynden of Asha. Both of them were fierce women and could take care of themselves. He supposed their marriage would not at all be bad and Brynden couldn't help but wonder what Val would be like in bed, spreading her legs for him.

"I will consider it, my lady. First I must speak with my bannermen and inform them of my decision. You have my word however that I will let Mance see his son."

He then took his leave, ready to summon his bannermen and inform them of his decision. They would not like it but Brynden understood the importance of their match, even if he was still uncertain about being wed. He could already foresee some of the problems he would face when getting his people to work with the wildlings. The wildlings would help bolster their numbers and they could become a great asset to use in the coming battles. They would of course need to be trained and hopefully in time they would accept the Starks of Winterfell as their king.

More guards were posted on the steps outside the tower, both northmen and king's men. Brynden had quickly learned the difference between the men who followed Stannis. The king's men were as earthy and impious as any other soldiers, but the queen's men were fervid in their devotion to Melisandre of Asshai and her Lord of Light. Brynden had one of his guards send for his bannermen and to meet him on the top of the Wall. A few of his guards trailed behind him as Brynden made his way over to the winch cage. Once he entered the cage, Brynden shut the door and pulled the bell cord. The winch began to turn. They rose.

Once at the top, Brynden found a spot at the edge of the Wall that overlooked the field where he had won his battle, and waited for his bannermen to arrive. He could already imagine how they would react when he informed them of his decision. The Greatjon would not be pleased and Brynden understood why for the Umbers had always been the first of the northern houses to fight the wildlings, with their lands being so close to the Wall. He had to make them see however the importance of the alliance, even if it was one they did not like.

"Your Grace?" said one of his guards. "The cage is coming up."

"I hear it." Brynden moved back from the edge. It was time for him to face the music.

First to make the ascent were Lords Harrion Karstark and the Greatjon. Robett Glover and Lady Mormont came next. After them the Blackfish and the clan chiefs Flint and Norrey. Then Lord Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood, the only river lords to follow Brynden north when they realized they could not hold the riverlands against the Iron Throne.

"Walk with me," Brynden told them. They walked for a bit until he said, "I've summoned you all here to inform you all of my decision about the alliance with the wildlings. I will spare Mance Rayder and take Val as my wife and queen, and allow the wildlings we have captured to pass through the Wall. The wildlings that have fled from the battle will also be allowed through when we have located them. There is much we need to do in preparation."

Silence greeted his pronouncement. Then the Greatjon bellowed, "Your Grace, you cannot possibly mean to let these wildlings into our lands and take one of them as your wife. They will stab us all in the back the moment an opportunity presents itself to them."

"They have raided our lands for years and slaughtered our people," Lady Mormont added. "Now you mean to let them through and accept them as your subjects?"

"I know this alliance will not be easy but we need to learn to live with the wildlings, my lords for they are not the true enemy beyond the Wall," Brynden said.

The Greatjon snorted. "You cannot possibly believe what your brother told you about the Others is true?"

"I trust Jon with my life," Brynden replied. "I know my brother would never lie to me about a threat like the Others and their wights."

"Your Grace," said The Norrey, "where do you mean to put these wild-lings o' yours? Not on my lands, I hope."

"Aye," declared Old Flint. "You want them in the Gift, that's your folly, but see they don't wander off or I'll send you back their heads. Winter is nigh, I want no more mouths to feed."

"That is exactly where I will settle them. My lord father once considered settling new lords in the Gift and I will do just that with the wildlings when they have proven their loyalty and once I have wrested it away from the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Brynden told them.

"What of Mance?" Robett Glover asked. "You cannot possibly mean to spare that man's life after he raised his sword against the very realm he had sworn to protect. Your lord father would have executed the man the moment he had gotten his hands on him."

"I need him if we hope to get the other wildlings beyond the Wall to agree to the alliance. Once he has served his purpose, we will have no more use for him." Val would not like, but she would not understand that Mance was an oathbreaker. So long as Mance lived, others would see Brynden as a weak ruler and break their oaths as well.

"Even if you were to take this wildling woman as your wife, how would we know that the others will uphold their end of the alliance?"

"The wildlings have neither laws nor lords," Brynden said, "but they love their children. Will you admit that much?"

"It is not their children who concern us. We fear the fathers, not the sons."

"As do I. Which is why I shall insist upon hostages when the terms of the alliance are brought before these wildlings. A son from each of their chiefs and captains, including Mance Rayder's son will serve as pages, squires, and wards. The rest of the boys will stand hostage for the loyalty of their sires."

His bannermen glanced at one another. "Hostages," mused The Norrey. "Do you believe they will agree to this?"

"If not they can choose to die out beyond the Wall, but I believe they will accept. Their host is broken and they know now that the Night's Watch is not alone in the defense of the Wall. For centuries our people have fought each other, bleeding one another while the true foe grows stronger. Winter is coming and we need to learn to put our differences aside if we are going to survive."

* * *

Winterfell had certainly changed since Catelyn had last seen it before the war. Despite the repairs done to the castle she could still some of the damage Ramsay Snow had caused when he had sacked Winterfell. Brynden should have done the same to the Dreadfort, but Catelyn knew her son had made the right decision to not burn the Dreadfort when Roose Bolton was still loyal to their cause. With Roose Bolton slain by Ser Gregor Clegane at the Fords, the Bolton line was extinct and her son would need to decide what to do with the Dreadfort. It was only a matter of time before some of the northern lords decided to claim the Dreadfort and its lands for themselves.

All that mattered however to Catelyn at the moment was that her children were safe and home again. Sansa had been safely returned to the north and had arrived at White Harbor, where Lord Manderly had sent her back to Winterfell along with an escort of knights. From them, Catelyn had learned about a fleet of ships being spotted sailing to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. They would have to inform Brynden of the news, but from what Catelyn knew about her son's last whereabouts was that he was sailing to the Wall from his campaign on the Iron Islands. The wildlings had finally decided to launch an attack on the Wall.

Catelyn remembered not that long ago when Ned had told her he would have to call the banners and ride north to deal with the King-beyond-the-Wall. Ned was gone though and it was their son who rode north in his place to deal with Mance Rayder. It should have been both of her sons, but Catelyn learned about Robb's fate in the riverlands when news of the red wedding reached Winterfell. She had been distraught when she learned of how Robb had died, but knew that she would have to be strong for the sake of her remaining children.

News of the riverlands did not sit well with Catelyn, but had her son stayed to hold the Trident he would have been surrounded on all sides by his enemies. She should have known better than to trust Walder Frey's word after Robb had broken the pact to wed one of his daughters. With her son abandoning the Trident, Riverrun was now in the hands of the Freys whilst they ruled as Lords Paramount of the Trident for the Iron Throne with her brother Edmure as their hostage. It was only a matter of time before Walder Frey decided to have her brother put to the sword.

Catelyn wished Brynden would do something about her brother's imprisonment, but she had learned that Edmure's imprisonment was part of his truce with Tywin Lannister to ensure that he did not raise his sword against the south. She had lost a son and a brother in exchange for her family being reunited again. Not for the first time, Catelyn cursed Lysa for not lending aid to their cause, believing the Knights of the Vale could make all the difference in the war. How much more pain must she endure until this war was finally over? So long as Brynden was still fighting, Catelyn feared for her son's life, not wishing to lose another child whist the stonemason carved Robb's statue in the crypts of Winterfell.

"My lady, pardon the intrusion but a raven arrived from Castle Black," Ser Kyle Condon said. The man had been Lord Medger Cerwyn's right hand man before serving as commander of Brynden's outriders and scouts during his campaign against the Ironborn in the north until he was appointed as castellan of Winterfell.

Brynden, Catelyn thought, making her way over to Ser Kyle, hoping that her son was safe. "What news do you bring me?" Had her son arrived on time to defend the Wall against the wildling attack? She knew how few men the Night's Watch had and wondered if they had held the Wall long enough for her son to arrive to defend them.

"King Brynden Stark won a great victory at the Wall against the wildlings, my lady," Ser Kyle replied, handing her the letter. "The Night's Watch have suffered losses, but His Grace's host was aided in the battle by Stannis Baratheon."

Stannis, Catelyn thought, suddenly fearing for her son's life. I am the rightful king, Catelyn remembered Stannis declaring during his parley with Renly Baratheon, his jaw clenched hard as iron, and your son no less a traitor than my brother here. His day will come as well. That was before Renly had been slain by a shadow and her son Robb murdered at a wedding. She had told her son about Renly's death, but she had to warn Brynden about Stannis. The man could not be trusted and even after his defeat in the Blackwater, Catelyn had no doubt Stannis Baratheon would do anything to win the Iron Throne.

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 **Next chapter will be the wedding of Brynden Stark and Val. No idea why some people are suggesting Dany for Brynden to marry when they haven't even met yet in this story, not to mention their marriage is not even what my story is focused on in the first place. Brynden marrying Dany instead of Val would kind of ruin the whole point of this story.  
**

 **Reviews**

 **BigWilly526: There's no reason for Brynden to absolve Jon of his vows at all. Sorry to disappoint you but Jon will most definitely remain as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch for the rest of this story.**

 **Freakdogsflare: That ship sailed a long time ago as I decided not to do the polygamy thing and am killing Asha off anyway when she gives birth to Lyanna Snow. Rickon is still alive and is at Winterfell with the rest of the Starks, but after the purging of the Isles, I doubt they will be used after this.**

 **Once More Into the Breach: I know Val is not Mance's wife. Dalla died during the Battle of Castle Black giving birth to Mance's son and Val was taking care of her son when Brynden parleyed with Stannis.**

 **alec-potter: His marriage with Val is definitely different than Robb's. Unlike with Robb's marriage to Jeyne, Brynden's marriage to Val is more akin to that of King Rickard Stark bringing the Neck into the North by taking the Marsh King's daughter as his wife, King Maldon IV Durrandon taking an Andal maid as his wife, and King Lymond Hightower marrying a daughter of King Garland II Gardener and joining the Reach. There are more examples, but yeah, Val's marriage does bring more to the table as she can help Brynden gain the wildling's trust and bind them to the north. Also, Brynden doesn't need legitimacy to rule as his bannermen have already crowned him as their king.  
**

 **RandomDude: Val helps bind the wildlings to the north. Not to mention that Dany is half way around the world and Brynden hasn't heard about her yet.**


	18. Blood of the First Men

**Here we are with the first chapter of the fourth book, with us starting out with the wedding of Brynden Stark and Val.**

 **Enjoy and review**

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Jon Snow still found it hard to believe that he had been elected as the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. As he sat in the solar that his brother Brynden was using in the King's Tower with his war council.

From what Jon could see on the looks of his brother's bannermen, they were not at all pleased with his announcement of marrying Val. Jon could not blame them for the north and the free folk had been fighting each other for centuries until now. What his brother planned to do was a bold move and would no doubt anger some of his lords to settle the free folk on the Gift. Jon already knew how his sworn brothers would react when his brother would inform them of his decision to allow the free folk to pass through the Wall. There was not much his black brothers could do to protest since Brynden was the King in the North and had more numbers than the Night's Watch. If his brother wanted he could have just forced the Night's Watch to agree to his terms, but the Starks of Winterfell have always been an ally of the Night's Watch.

They chose me to be their lord commander. The Wall is mine, and the Watch as well. The Night's Watch takes no part, but another voice within him said, Words are not swords. Brynden needed his help if he was going to get the Night's Watch to cooperate with his plan to settle the free folk on the Gift. As the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch it was up to Jon to negotiate with Brynden on how to deal with the free folk. He wondered how the free folk would react when they heard of Brynden's price for the alliance. Both sides had something to gain and to lose with this alliance.

Brynden seemed to not pay any attention to the looks of disapproval his bannermen gave. His brother wore the suit of black scale armor he had claimed from Euron Greyjoy with a surcoat over it. He did not wear the face of his brother but instead had donned the face of the King in the North and the Lord Stark of Winterfell. Jon recognized most of the lords present in the solar save for the river lords and Harrion Karstark, the new Lord of Karhold. Lord Tytos Blackwood, Jason Mallister, and the Blackfish were one of the few lords to abandon the Trident when they realized they could not hold it against the strength of Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Dorne whilst the rest of the river lords had bent the knee to the Iron Throne.

"Lord Commander," Brynden greeted. "Thank you for joining us. I trust you know why you have been called here?"

"I do." Jon already knew before Brynden had informed his bannermen about his decision to let the free folk through the Wall. His brother wished to discuss about how they would settle the free folk on the Gift with most of the holdfasts in the land abandoned and in ruin. There was also the matter about how they would be able to feed them though Jon had learned that Brynden had brought most of the food and livestock from the Iron Islands after he had wiped the Ironborn out.

"First I wish to discuss with you about the wildlings." Brynden frowned. "You rode with these wildlings. Is there any honor in them, do you think?"

"Yes," Jon said, "but their own sort of honor, sire."

"In Mance Rayder?"

"Yes. I think so."

"In this Tormund of the many names who eluded us after the battle?"

"Tormund Giantsbane seemed to me the sort of man who would make a good friend and a bad enemy, Your Grace."

Brynden gave a curt nod. "I have discussed with my lords about settling the wildlings on the Gift and they have all agreed to the idea of them paying half of their taxes to Castle Black with the other half to Winterfell. Their sons will also serve as pages, squires, and wards to ensure the loyalty of their sires. Some may choose to take the black one day if they so wish. Queerer things have happened."

"And of Mance?" Mance had made his vows to the Night's Watch then turned his cloak, wed Dalla, and crowned himself King-beyond-the-Wall. Mance's life was in Brynden's hands now and Jon wondered what his brother planned to do with him as their lord father would have executed Mance Rayder for treason and deserting the Night's Watch.

"For the time being Mance will be allowed to live. We need him if we are to get the other wildlings to agree to the alliance. As we speak, Mance Rayder is delivering my terms to the wildlings we captured during the battle. If they accept, they will be the first of the wildlings to be allowed through the Wall and to settle on the Gift. Do you agree to these terms, Lord Commander?"

Despite his thoughts about letting Mance live, Jon was glad that his brother understood that the King-beyond-the-Wall was more use to them alive than dead. He also wondered if Brynden had spared Mance in order to get Val to agree to their marriage. Jon had rode with the free folk that he understood his brother would have to carry Val at swordpoint to get her to wed him, but it seemed that Val had agreed to the marriage to spare Mance's life.

"I agree." Jon wondered what their father and uncle would think of their plan to settle the free folk on the Gift were they still here.

"Then there is the wedding. With us being too far away from Winterfell I wish to have the wedding take place at Castle Black. We will need to use your grove of heart trees for the wedding ceremony."

It was traditional in the north for the bride to be wed in front of the weirwood tree in the godswood. They would need to have a strong host of guards to be present as they would be beyond the Wall. "I will send my rangers out to secure the area," Jon told him.

"Good. With that out of the way it is time that we all prepared for a wedding."

And for Jon to face Stannis Baratheon. As the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch the task fell onto him to deal with the two kings at the Wallwhilst keeping the Night's Watch neutral in their war.

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He was going to be married soon. Not for the first time, Brynden found it hard to believe that his wife was going to be a wildling woman, the wildling princess, though according to Val she was only Dalla's sister to her people. It was all for the sake of bringing peace for his people and the wildlings, Brynden told himself, knowing that they have fought each other since the Wall was built by Brandon the Builder. His bannermen continued to complain about the wedding and his decision to let the wildlings through the Wall, saying it was not right for a wildling woman to be their queen and Lady of Winterfell. Brynden would have to think of something to appease his lords, but for now it would have to wait.

As they had discussed earlier, Jon had sent rangers beyond the Wall to secure the area around the grove of heart trees where the wedding ceremony would take place. Some had wished for the wedding ceremony to be held behind the Wall, with the threat of Tormund Giantsbane and the Others lurking about, but Brynden would have none of it for it was their tradition to be wed in front of a heart tree. He would have had the wedding take place at Winterfell, but they would have to travel many leagues to get there and they still had to deal with the wildlings massing beyond the Wall.

Six thousand wildlings had been penned up beyond the Wall, the captives Brynden and Stannis Baratheon had taken when their armies had smashed Mance Rayder's patchwork host. They would be the first of the wildlings to witness Brynden take one of their own as his wife and queen, and hopefully their marriage would help seal the peace between his people and the wildlings. There was also some more free folk drifting in most every night, starved half-frozen creatures who had run from the battle beneath the Wall only to crawl back when they realized there was no safe place to run to. They would all bear witness to the start of an alliance between the north and the free folk.

Much to his displeasure, Stannis Baratheon would also be attending the wedding, along with his Hand, Davos Seaworth, and the red woman. His bannermen did not at all approve of the red woman's presence due to her religion and belief that their gods were false and should be burned. If he had it his way, Stannis and his men would on their way back to Eastwatch, but as much as he hated to admit it, Brynden still needed him for their planned journey to Dragonstone to bring the dragonglass back to the Wall.

Stannis Baratheon was proving to be a prickly ally, and a restless one. He had ridden down the kingsroad almost as far as Queenscrown, prowled through the empty hovels of Mole's Town, inspected the ruined forts at Queensgate and Oakenshield. Each night he walked atop the Wall with Lady Melisandre, and during the days he visited the stockades, picking captives out for the red woman to question. He does not like to be balked. Were it not for his Hand, Brynden wondered if Stannis would have even agreed to their alliance whilst he continued to call himself King in the North. No doubt Stannis would have preferred if Brynden were his Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell instead.

The days of the north serving the south were done however and Brynden had no desire to bend the knee to any southron king, even if he had thought about bending the knee to Stannis before. Stannis was nothing more than a doomed pretender in his eyes and Brynden had no intention with having the north go down with him. Once they got the dragonglass from Dragonstone delivered to the Wall, Brynden would have no more need of the man. For now all Brynden could do was tolerate the man's presence until he was no longer needed.

A knock came from the door whilst Brynden put on a grey and white doublet. "It's time, Your Grace," Smalljon announced.

Then we had best not keep them waiting. Brynden glanced at Shadow who was curled up by the fire resting. "Come, Shadow," Brynden said and his wolf opened its eyes, got up and followed Brynden out of his solar.

It was a two hour's ride to the grove so they had decided to have the wedding ceremony take place at dawn. Once they were wed, Brynden and Val would make their way to where the prisoners were being held before letting them pass through the Wall. Once they were all through they would have the feast before the bedding. Brynden couldn't help but wonder what Val would look like on their wedding day, finding himself drawn to her beauty.

There were many guards and rangers posted around the grove when Brynden arrived, noting that Val would arrive soon after to begin the ceremony. The lords who had fought alongside Brynden and Robb since the Green Fork and the Whispering Woods were present. Stannis was also present, wearing grey plate, with a fur-trimmed cloak of cloth-of-gold flowing from his broad shoulders. His breastplate had a flaming heart inlaid above his own. Girding his brows was a red-gold crown with points like twisting flames. The red woman was also beside him, along with Davos Seaworth and his honor guard. Brynden spotted Jon and nodded to his brother before taking his position in front of one of the heart trees.

Val soon arrived, tall, fair, and ravishing. She wore a simple circlet of dark bronze and Brynden was taken aback at how regal she looked. Her eyes were grey and fearless. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks. Escorting her was Mance Rayder, as her sister Dalla had died during the battle beneath the Wall it was decided that Mance should give her hand in marriage.

"Who comes?" Brynden asked when Val and Mance stood before him. "Who comes before the god?"

Mance answered. "Val of the free folk comes here to be wed. A woman grown, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Brynden of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Mance Rayder, who was her sister's husband." He turned to the bride. "Lady Val, will you take this man?"

Val's grey eyes locked onto Brynden's own. "I take this man," she stepped forward, accepting his hand as he offered it to her.

They joined their hands before kneeling in front of the heart tree, bowing their heads in token of submission. May our marriage help to bring the peace between the north and the free folk, Brynden prayed, closing his eyes. It was time for them to put the past behind them if they hoped to have a future and survive the coming storm. Once he finished his prayers, Brynden and Val rose up as husband and wife, king and queen. He turned to face Val and undid her cloak and in its place he fastened a heavy white wool cloak bordered in grey fur, emblazoned with the direwolf of House Stark. With that done he took her hand and led her to their next destination before the feast.

Six thousand captives waited for them when they arrived, watching them approach through the wooden bars of their stockade. All were ragged and half-starved. Wildlings, the Seven Kingdoms called them; they named themselves the free folk. They looked neither wild nor free—only hungry, frightened, numb. Soon though they would have new homes behind the Wall and would become his subjects. It would be up to him to see to it that they kept the peace if they hoped to live behind the Wall.

"FREE FOLK!" Brynden cried out for all of them to hear. "Today you are all witnessing history of the union between the north and the free folk. Standing beside me is one of your own, whom I have wed and taken as my wife and queen. Your king, Mance Rayder by now has informed you all of the terms of this alliance. Swear me your loyalty, and I promise you food, land, and justice. Open the gates."

"OPEN THE GATES," bellowed the Greatjon, his voice booming off the Wall. "OPEN THE GATES," echoed the Blackfish, commanding the guards. "OPEN THE GATES," cried the commanders. Men scrambled to obey. Sharpened stakes were wrenched from the ground, planks were dropped across deep ditches, and the stockade gates were thrown wide. Brynden watched as Lord Commander Jon Snow rose his hand and lowered it, with his black ranks parting right and left, clearing a path to the Wall, where another brother pushed open the iron gate.

"This is no trick," Brynden told them. "It is a new life that awaits you all behind the Wall."

And soon they all began to come forward. Slowly at first, some limping or leaning on their fellows, the captives began to emerge from their rough-hewn pen. Hesitant, wary of some trap, the first few prisoners edged across the planks and through the ring of the stakes, toward Brynden, Val, and the Wall. More followed, when they saw that no harm had come to those who went before. Then more, until it was a steady stream. Val and Mance encouraged those who were weary to follow their brethren through the Wall. Behind them was only cold and death. Ahead was hope.

Sigorn was the first to swear fealty to Brynden. Val, Jon, and Mance had informed him of the names of the leaders they captured during the battle. The young Magnar of Thenn was lean, balding, clad in bronze greaves and a leather shirt sewn with bronze scales. Lesser leaders followed. Two clan chiefs of the Hornfoot men, whose feet were black and hard. An old wise woman revered by the peoples of the Milkwater. A scrawny dark-eyed boy of two-and-ten, the son of Alfyn Crowkiller. Halleck, brother to Harma Dogshead, with her pigs. Each of them swore the same oath, pledging their swords to Brynden.

Brynden knew better than to have them kneel for him, remembering the warning Jon had given him. "The free folk despise kneelers. Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better."

Having pledged their swords and loyalty, the wildlings shuffled past the ranks of the black brothers to the gate. On the far side, bowls of hot onion soup awaited them, and chunks of black bread and sausage. Clothes as well: cloaks, breeches, boots, tunics, good leather gloves. They would sleep on piles of clean straw, with fires blazing to keep the chill of night at bay.

The tunnel through the Wall was narrow and twisting, and many of the wildlings were old or ill or wounded, so the going was painfully slow. By the time the last of them had sworn their sword and loyalty, night had fallen. The few giants and mammoths that were captured were told to go to Eastwatch due to them being too big to fit through the tunnels.

Now it was time for the feast. "Come, my queen," Brynden took Val's hand and led her through the tunnel with his honor guard following them.

"You need bigger tunnels for your Wall," Val told him as they made their way to where the feast would be.

"No use complaining about it now," Brynden said. "Besides, I doubt the Night's Watch would be open to the idea with widening their tunnels."

"They also don't seem pleased with letting my people through them."

"The Night's Watch have been fighting your people for centuries. It is no surprise that they are weary about letting the free folk through the Wall."

"Your lords don't seem too pleased about our marriage."

"In time they will come to accept you and see you as their queen and Lady of Winterfell." At least he hoped. There were plenty of other daughters from loyal and powerful houses Brynden could have chosen to be his wife, but instead he had taken a wildling woman as his bride for the sake of peace. His mother would not like it but Brynden had thought about betrothing his siblings to other houses to appease his bannermen. He could not afford to divide the north with the threat beyond the Wall looming over them.

"What do you plan to do with Mance's son?" Val asked.

"I will send him to Winterfell to be fostered," Brynden told her. Mance's son would not be the only babe at Winterfell if what his mother had told him were true in her recent raven. Lady Asha was due soon to be giving birth to their child, his bastard. Brynden just hoped Val would not treat his bastard the same way that his mother had treated Jon Snow. He couldn't help but wonder if his child with Asha was a boy or a girl.

Val frowned. "Is he also to be a hostage like the other children you have demanded from my people?"

"They will be pages, squires, and wards," Brynden replied. "So long as your people keep the peace they will not be harmed."

"Your blood price."

"Aye." It was the only solution Brynden could think of to ensure that the free folk did not go against their word. Words were wind, but with their children as hostages, the free folk would think twice before deciding to raid and pillage his kingdom.

With the common hall of Castle Black burned to the ground and the towers and buildings occupied by their soldiers, the wedding feast was held in the cellar. Once they were all seated on the dais, Robett Glover raised a toast. "To King Brynden and his wife, Queen Val!"

The stewards began to pour out the dishes, cod cakes and winter squash, hills of neeps and great round wheels of cheese, on smoking slabs of mutton and beef ribs charred almost black. One of the brothers took up the fiddle, and several of the free folk joined in with pipes and drums. With the broth came loaves of coarse brown bread, warm from the oven. Salt and butter sat upon the tables. It was a strange sight to see sworn brothers of the Night's Watch, free folk, northerners, and southrons feasting in the same room. Brynden supposed they could all use some celebration these days with the war and the threat of the Others approaching the Wall. He watched Shadow prowl the area whilst his guards remained alert, hands on their sword hilts. His guards would take no chances not after what had happened to Robb at the red wedding.

"Are all your weddings like this?" Val asked, as Brynden helped himself to a healthy slice of elk.

"Only in the north," Brynden replied. "In the south the weddings are a lot longer and more festive than ours." Not to mention that they did not have priests. He preferred the more simpler and quicker weddings of the north than the south.

"The free folk have no feasts when a man and woman are wed." No instead it was expected of the man to steal his woman and claim her as his wife.

Brynden spotted Jon speaking with one of his black brothers and excused himself, making his way over to his brother. "Lord Commander," he greeted. The black brother took his leave whilst Jon turned his attention onto him.

"Your Grace, congratulations on your marriage."

"If only all of my bannermen saw it your way," Brynden said, glancing at some of his lords who did not at all seem pleased with the wedding. Others had come to accept the match though he knew that they still did not approve of the alliance with the free folk. Even with his blood price, as Val called it, his bannermen would have preferred if the free folk were still kept beyond the Wall.

"My brothers also do not approve of your decision to let the free folk through the Wall," Jon told him.

Brynden was not at all surprised at the Night's Watch disapproval of his decision. The sworn brothers of the Night's Watch had been fighting the wildlings far longer than his people have. It would take more than his marriage to Val to convince the Night's Watch to accept the free folk as citizens of his kingdom. He couldn't help but wonder what he would be remembered as for letting the free folk settle on the Gift. "Hopefully in time they will come to accept my decision."

"What do you plan to do afterwards now that Tywin Lannister is dead?"

"I will remain here at the Wall until we have negotiated with Tormund whilst the Lannisters are in disarray." If the tales coming up the kingsroad could be believed, the King's Hand had been murdered by his dwarf son whilst sitting on a privy. Brynden found Lord Tywin's death to be a fitting end to his life to die by the hands of his own son.

"Do you believe Stannis has a chance now that Tywin Lannister is gone?"

"No." Tommen may still be a boy sitting on the Iron Throne, but he still had the strength of Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Dorne behind him. "Now if you will excuse me, I believe that it is time for me to consummate my marriage." Brynden took his leave and made his way back over to Val.

Val looked up at him as he approached. "I was beginning to wonder if you preferred your brother's presence over mine."

"Forgive me, my queen, we had matters to discuss." He offered her his hand and Val accepted it as she stood up.

"My lords," Brynden called out, silencing the hall as they made their way down the dais. "It is time for my queen and I to adjourn to our chambers to consummate our marriage. The rest of you, remain and enjoy the food and drink."

The bedchamber had been well prepared for the consummation. All the furnishings were new, brought up from Deepwood Motte in the baggage train. The canopy bed had a feather mattress and drapes of blood-red velvet. The stone floor was covered with wolfskins. A fire was burning in the hearth, a candle on the bedside table. On the sideboard was a flagon of wine, two cups, and a half wheel of veined white cheese.

"Here we are," Brynden said as Val glanced about their chambers. They were in the King's Tower.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" Val asked, stripping her clothes off with ease. "Or will I have to teach my husband how to please his wife?"

"You are not the first woman I have been with," Brynden told her, remembering Ros and Asha.

"Then show me how you northerners please your women," Val climbed onto their bed and spread her legs for him.

Brynden gazed lustfully at her body whilst he disrobed before joining her. He squeezed one of her breasts, noting how firm they were whilst sliding the other hand along her inner thigh and gazed into her eyes as she stroked his manhood. Brynden leaned down and pressed his lips against hers before easing himself inside her, loosing himself to the moment of pleasure with the woman who was now his wife and queen.

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 **Reviews**

 **Freakdogsflare: I decided not to do the whole polygamy stuff in this story so Val will be Brynden's only queen and Lady of Winterfell.**

 **Blaze1992: Lol, sorry to disappoint you but there won't be much fighting for a while until maybe the end or the middle of the fourth book.**


	19. A Feast for Crows

**So as you guys know already, I'm pulling events that happen in the fifth book to the fourth one. I also have at least two battles planned for the fourth book, maybe one more.**

 **Also, after this chapter I'm probably going to start working on my OC Arryn story or my Harry Potter one, not sure yet. Most likely if I do the Arryn story I'll post it in the Game of Thrones section and see how the first chapter does before I decide if I want to continue it or focus on finishing this story.**

 **Enjoy and review**

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"How many ships did you leave at Dragonstone?"

The solar was hot and crowded. Davos was amongst the captains, lords, and commanders gathered in the room with Stannis and King Brynden Stark. Most of them about Stannis were queen's men, men who had converted to the Lord of Light whilst most of the king's men were left out. Some of the wildlings that had been allowed through the Wall were amongst them, including the young Magnar of Thenn, Sigorn, clad in a leather hauberk sewn with bronze scales. Davos did not fail to notice the looks the northern lords gave to the wildlings. No doubt they were also still not pleased with their king taking a wildling woman as his wife and queen.

Stannis grinded his teeth. "Only a few fishing boats."

The rest of their fleet was harbored at Eastwatch, Davos knew. Of those that had survived the Blackwater, most of the ships that served Stannis belonged to Salladhor Saan. They only had twenty-nine ships and if the Lannisters did decide to take Dragonstone, Davos doubted they would be able to stand a chance against the Redwyne fleet.

The Blackfish scoffed. "I doubt those will be enough to transport all that dragonglass you claim to have on Dragonstone."

"Do you name me a liar, Ser? There is much of this obsidian in the old tunnels beneath the mountain, chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple."

"It is only a matter of time before the Lannisters decide to take your seat," King Brynden pointed out. "We should act quickly to secure Dragonstone to give us enough time to mine the dragonglass."

"What of the other wildlings gathering around this Tormund fellow? Would it be wise for us to leave the Wall whilst there is still the threat of an attack?" Lord Greatjon Umber asked.

"With the Weeper dead it is no surprise that many of them are gathering around him," Mance Rayder said. "The man thought to make himself King-beyond-the-Wall before I defeated him."

"This Tormund does not yet know of our alliance," King Brynden added before looking at Stannis. "I can lend you the Manderly fleet at White Harbor along with whatever men you require to take with you to Dragonstone whilst I will stay here and meet with Tormund to deliver the terms of our alliance."

"How many ships does Lord Manderly have?" Stannis asked.

"From the last raven I received from White Harbor, Lord Manderly reported that they have finished constructing over a hundred galleys. The fleet should be more than enough to transport the dragonglass back to the Wall."

"What of your fleet docked in the Gorge?" Davos asked.

Davos had heard about the fleet King Brynden had taken from the Ironborn when he had defeated them on the Fever River. Since then the Stark King had used the fleet to smash the rest of the Ironborn on the Iron Islands. All that was left of their lands were islands of skulls. He doubted the people of the Seven Kingdoms would mourn the loss of the Ironborn. The Ironborn would not be missed that much was certain.

King Brynden shook his head. "It will take too long for them to sail around the continent and they will be at risk with being attacked by the Redwyne fleet. No, it is best that we use the Manderly fleet and the ships we've got."

"There is also the chance that we will encounter the Redwyne fleet," the Blackfish said.

Stannis frowned. "Leave Lord Redwyne to me."

It was no surprise to Davos that Stannis had no love for Lord Redwyne and his liege lord. The Lord of the Arbor and Mace Tyrell had laid siege to Storm's End during Robert's Rebellion and feasted in front of the castle whilst Stannis and his garrison starved inside.

"The Lannisters will no doubt be in disarray with the death of Tywin Lannister," King Brynden said. "That gives us the time to act before they make their move. Once you arrive at Dragonstone, I will send my fleet from the Gorge to sack Lannisport. The Lannister's fleet won't stand a chance against mine due to the losses they took in Greyjoy's Rebellion."

"Not to mention that they will have few men in the westerlands due to the losses they took at Oxcross," the Blackfish added.

"Don't tell me you plan to take Casterly Rock," Ser Godry Farring smirked. "The castle has never fallen. Not even the Red Kraken could take the castle once its gates were barred."

"I don't plan to take their castle unless an opportunity presents itself," King Brynden said.

"No doubt the Lannisters will be conflicted with what to do when they are attacked on two fronts." Davos said.

"With Tywin Lannister gone the Lannisters are no longer a House to be feared. Let us show them that they have not yet won this war."

* * *

"You did well with the way you handled Janos Slynt. Father would have been proud."

"I did what needed to be done. He refused my orders."

Despite his vows to the Night's Watch, Jon couldn't help but feel that he had avenged their father when he had taken Janos Slynt's head off with Longclaw. All of a man's crimes were wiped away when he took the black, and all of his allegiances as well, yet Jon had found it hard to think of Janos Slynt as a brother. The man had helped slay his father and did his best to have him killed as well.

"Still I am glad the man is dead. Though I wish that I had taken the man's head myself." Brynden raised his cup to Jon before taking a sip.

The Night's Watch takes no part, Jon told himself, but he couldn't help but enjoy his brother's company. Jon had never thought he would see his brother again after he had heard what happened to Robb at the red wedding. "I hear that Stannis plans to leave on the morrow for Eastwatch."

"Aye. Stannis will join his fleet with the Manderly fleet before sailing to Dragonstone. If what your brother says about the Others is true than we need that dragonglass. Hopefully Stannis will be able to defeat whatever fleet the Lannisters send to Dragonstone and send the dragonglass north before the castle is taken."

"Let us pray that Stannis succeeds. We will need all the dragonglass we can get for when the Others attack."

"There is still the matter of this Tormund fellow we need to deal with."

Jon had not forgotten. Though they had no idea where Tormund was, Mance believed that many of the free folk would flock to him with the Weeper slain by his brother at the Bridge of the Skulls. Mance would not at all be surprised if all of the fighters that had fought beneath the Wall would follow Tormund. Bowen Marsh had insisted they seal the gates, but Jon would have none of that. As much as his brothers refused to accept it, the free folk were now a part of the realm with Brynden's marriage to Val and letting the survivors of the battle beneath the Wall through their gates. His brothers had been none to pleased when Brynden had taken the Gift and the New Gift away from them with Jon's permission and given them to the free folk.

"How do you mean to deal with him? None of my rangers have been able to find him."

"My bannermen will not like it nor will your brothers, but I mean to send Mance out to find Tormund and present my terms to him. Then we shall see if Mance does indeed know the haunted forest better than any of your rangers."

They would not like that indeed. Jon could already imagine the looks on their faces when Brynden informed them of his decision to send Mance out beyond the Wall. The northern lords were already not pleased with their king's decision to allow Mance to live when they had insisted that he behead the traitor, as their father would have done. In a different time, Jon was certain his brother would have executed the King-beyond-the-Wall, but as much as he hated to admit it, they needed Mance to help convince the free folk to agree to their alliance. Despite what Brynden's bannermen and Jon's brothers thought of the alliance, Jon was grateful that Brynden believed him and understood the importance of letting the free folk through the Wall.

"How do you know he won't just launch another assault on the Wall with Tormund's host?" It was not that long ago that Mance had been attacking the Wall. Jon just hoped that his brother was not putting too much trust in the wildling king.

"You forget that I have his son," Brynden reminded him.

Jon had not forgotten and had no doubt that his brother would not hesitate to go through with his threat. His brother had certainly acquired a reputation for his ruthlessness to his enemies as the Ironborn had learned when he had wiped them out for invading the north. There were times he found it hard to believe that his brother was capable of such an act, but the Ironborn were gone and their castles razed to the ground.

"I doubt that will be able to please your bannermen when they learn of your decision."

"So far they have proven to not be pleased at all with any of my decisions regarding the wildlings. They also continue to have doubts of the threat beyond the Wall."

Jon was not at all surprised they did not believe him. Only King Stannis and Brynden believed his word about the Others and the threat they posed to Westeros. The only way Brynden's bannermen would believe him was if they saw it for themselves. He doubted they would ever trust the word of a wildling should they question one of them. Once they saw the Others with their own eyes, then they would believe the threat beyond the Wall was real.

"Will Lady Melisandre be accompanying Stannis to Dragonstone?" Jon asked.

Brynden shook his head, frowning. "The red woman has decided to remain here at the Wall with the Night's Watch."

That was the last thing Jon Snow would have wanted, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He doubted King Stannis would listen to his objections with him getting ready to march for Eastwatch. He would have no choice but to tolerate Melisandre's presence until King Stannis returned from Dragonstone. Jon was surprised that King Stannis had not insisted that Lady Melisandre accompany him to Dragonstone. Lady Melisandre wore no crown, but every man there knew that she was Stannis Baratheon's real queen, not the homely woman he had left to shiver at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. He wondered if Queen Selyse and their daughter would instead accompany King Stannis, but doubted that would happen.

"What did your bannermen have to say about that?" Jon asked.

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Lord Commander," Brynden replied. "None of them are fond of the red woman with her fires and this grim god of hers."

"Men love to complain about their wives and lords, Lord Commander Mormont told me once. Those without wives complain twice as much about their lords."

"They'll have a deal more to complain about when I send Mance out."

"So long as Mance does his part your bannermen need not worry. Mance cares about his son and his people. He knows that this alliance is his best chance at saving the free folk," Jon pointed out.

Brynden sighed, scratching his head. "I hope you are right, Jon."

So did Jon. The Wall was his whilst the north was Brynden's and they were about to let thousands more wildlings through the Wall if Mance succeeded in his task. Jon could only hope that they were not too late and Mance got to them first before the Others did.

* * *

There were times when Brynden still found it hard to believe that he was now a married man. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how his father had felt on the morning of his wedding night with his mother. Brynden gazed down at Val's nude body, gently brushing his fingers against her smooth fair skin, and sliding them down her thighs. With the things Val could do in bed, Brynden wished he could stay locked up in their chambers all day, making love to one another, but he had other responsibilities that needed to be taken care of.

Stannis Baratheon would be leaving soon to join up with the Manderly fleet at White Harbor before sailing to Dragonstone. Brynden was glad to be rid of the southrons, but had been none to pleased when he learned that the red woman would be remaining behind at the Wall with them. So long as she did not try to burn anyone, Brynden would tolerate her presence for she was still a guest of the Night's Watch. There was also the matter of Tormund Giantsbane and Brynden knew that he would have to deal with him sooner or later. The black brothers had been none to pleased when they learned that Brynden planned to let more of the free folk through the Wall.

These were desperate times and Brynden knew they needed all the men they could get to help man the Wall with the current strength of the Night's Watch few in numbers. From what Jon had told him they believed that Tormund had managed to gather a host of fifty thousand, with at least twenty thousand fighters from the battle beneath the Wall supporting their new leader. He would need to send someone out to negotiate with Tormund soon, but his choice would most likely displease his bannermen and the Night's Watch.

Getting out of bed, Brynden got dressed whilst he looked back at over at Val. His wife stirred in their blankets and sat up as he slung a coat over his shoulders. "Looks like someone is finally awake," he said, making his way over to his desk and picking up the letter Yohn Royce had sent him.

"What are you reading?" Val asked, slipping out of bed to get dressed.

Brynden stared at her back whilst she made her way over to their wardrobe. He couldn't help but notice the way his wife walked. She was certainly graceful, but every step she took was like a seduction to him. Val could turn the heads of any men in the world with the way she walked and looked. "A letter from the Vale. More of a declaration, rather than a letter."

The Lords Declarant, Bronze Yohn called himself along with those that followed him, including Lady Anya Waynwood, Lord Gilwood Hunter, Lord Horton Redfort, Lord Benedar Belmore, and Ser Symond Templeton. From what Brynden had gathered from the letter, the Lords Declarant were intent on removing the Lord Protector of the Vale, Petyr Baelish from power after the mysterious death of his Aunt Lysa. Brynden had no love for the Vale after they had refused to aid their cause during the war, hiding behind their mountains whilst northmen and rivermen bled in the riverlands.

"Against us?"

Brynden shook his head. "No. They mean to remove Littlefinger from power by any means necessary."

"Who is this Littlefinger?"

"A man who is of no concern to us." Brynden crushed the letter in his hand and dropped it onto the floor. As much as he hated to admit, they could use the Vale's aid in the wars to come, but he wondered if they would with some of the Vale lords massing their armies at the Eyrie. Jon had told him of how the Night's Watch would need more food supplied to them soon and the Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. He wondered if the Vale would join his cause if he offered the hand of one of his sibling's in marriage. Sansa was the only one who was old enough and flowered to be wed. Brynden would have to ask his mother who the heir to the Eyrie was if he hoped to gain their allegiance.

"You don't sound too pleased about it," Val pointed out, wrapping herself in a bearskin cloak.

"Because that is the least of my worries at the moment. I mean to send Mance out beyond the Wall to find Tormund Giantsbane. No doubt my bannermen will not be pleased about that."

"Has Mance agreed to this?"

"He has no choice." Brynden left the rest unspoken, knowing that Val knew what he meant. So long as Mance kept the free folk in line and did his part, his son would be safe and taken care of. The boy did not have a name yet, which Brynden found to be strange, but that was the way of the free folk, Val told him. Mance Rayder's son would not be given a name till his third year, if they were still alive at that point, though Brynden had heard the black brothers calling him "the little prince" and "born-in-battle."

"I could go if your bannermen are afraid of letting Mance go," Val offered.

"You are a queen now," Brynden reminded her. "Your place is here."

"I am not like your southron ladies but a woman of the free folk. I can find them just as well as Mance can or any of your crows."

"I do not doubt it, but the answer is no. I will not risk it." Val could be stubborn when she wanted to be, but she had to understand now that she was a queen, not just a woman of the free folk. "Besides, Mance knows Tormund and will be able to convince him to agree to our terms."

Val frowned. "You still have much to learn about the free folk, Brynden Stark."

"Another time." For now, Brynden needed to see Mance and deal with his bannermen afterwards. Taking his leave, Brynden left Val in their solar, heading to the gate where Mance would be waiting for him.

Mance waited for Brynden's arrival by the gate, beside a garron, saddled and bridled. Jon Snow along with a few of his brothers and some of Brynden's bannermen were there as well. The displeased looks his bannermen gave him did not go unnoticed. Brynden would have to deal with them later once Mance was on his way to find Tormund.

"The King in the North graces us with his presence at last," Mance said, as Brynden made his way over to them.

Brynden ignored Mance's tone. "You have sufficient food?"

"Oh aye, hard bread, hard cheese, oat cakes, salt cod, salt beef, salt mutton, and a skin of sweet wine to rinse all that salt out of my mouth. I will not die of hunger."

"Then it's time you were away."

"You have my word, Wolf King. I will return, with Tormund or without him." Mance glanced at the sky. "Look for me on the first day of the full moon."

"I will and don't forget that I have your son." Brynden hoped that would at least ease his bannermen's fear that Mance would use Tormund's host to mount another attack on the Wall.

"You don't need to remind me. See to it that my son is safe whilst I am away."

"You have my word."

"And you have mine."

The road beneath the Wall was dark as Jon Snow and his black brothers led the way with torches in their hands. One of the brothers had the keys for the three gates, where bars of black iron as thick as a man's arm closed off the passage. Spearmen at each gate knuckled their foreheads as they passed. When they emerged north of the Wall, through a thick door made of freshly hewn green wood, the King-beyond-the-Wall paused for a moment to gaze out across the snow-covered field where Brynden and Stannis Baratheon had won their battle. Beyond, the haunted forest waited, dark and silent.

"Tell Tormund what I've said." Brynden said.

"He may not heed your words, but I'll convince him. Tell your kneelers that they need not fear about me attacking their Wall."

"Bring me Tormund Giantsbane and they might start to trust you."

Mance chuckled. "I doubt they'll trust me that easily." He wheeled the garron toward the north. "The first night of the full moon, then." Brynden watched him ride away wondering if Mance would indeed keep his word.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Jon said, as Mance vanished behind a stand of soldier pines.

"So do I."

As they made their way back through the Wall, Jon informed him of an interesting tale, of a woods witch called Mother Mole. "What do you know about this, Mother Mole?" Brynden asked his brother.

"Supposedly she made her home in a burrow beneath a hollow tree. Whatever the truth of that, she had a vision of a fleet of ships arriving to carry the free folk to safety across the narrow sea. Thousands of those who fled the battle were desperate enough to believe her. Mother Mole has led them all to Hardhome, there to pray and await salvation from across the sea."

"Hardhome?" Brynden frowned. "I remember Old Nan used to tell us stories about that cursed place. Why would they go there?"

"Hardhome sits on a sheltered bay and has a natural harbor deep enough for the biggest ships afloat. Wood and stone are plentiful near there. The waters teem with fish, and there are colonies of seals and sea cows close at hand."

"You want us to go there, don't you?" Brynden asked.

Jon nodded his head. "Cotter Pyke's galleys sail past Hardhome from time to time. He tells me there is no shelter there but the caves. The screaming caves, his men call them. Mother Mole and those who followed her will perish there, of cold and starvation. Hundreds of them. Thousands."

"We'll need more ships than the ones the Night's Watch have at Eastwatch to transport them. I'll see if Lord Manderly could spare some galleys for us to use. Have you spoken to your brothers about it yet?"

"Not yet," Jon replied.

"We are treading on thin ice with this alliance, Jon," Brynden said. "Even with my marriage to Val and holding the children as hostages, my bannermen still do not trust their new allies."

"The same goes for my brothers. I'm certain you have heard of what some of the men are calling us."

"That we are both half wildling, turncloaks who mean to sell the realm to our raiders, cannibals, and giants." Brynden knew all about what some of his men and bannermen said of him. Some still did not trust Jon's word about the threat beyond the Wall and thought Brynden was mad to believe him.

Jon sighed, glancing back at his brothers and Brynden's bannermen. "I will speak with my brothers later about the matter of Hardhome. I wanted to speak with you first about it because they also deserve to have a chance to be let through the Wall."

"They won't be pleased about it, that much is certain."

It was still dark when Brynden returned to his solar in the King's Tower. The tower felt empty now with Stannis and his men gone and riding for Eastwatch. Val was waiting for him, looking bored as she twirled a long bone knife in her hand. She looked at him as Brynden entered. "Is Mance gone?" She asked.

Brynden nodded his head. "He is."

"What did your lords have to say about that?"

"I have not spoken to them yet. For now I am more interested in you."

Val smirked as Brynden took off his cloak. "Now I know why you didn't want me to go. Can't go one night without me warming your bed, can you?"

Brynden chuckled. "I'd rather be inside of you than deal with my bannermen."

He went to her and helped her out of her clothes whilst she unlaced him. Brynden could feel his manhood throbbing as Val took it in her hands and stroked it. He then took her by the hips and lifted her into the air before entering her. Val moaned, wrapping her around his shoulders as he thrust himself inside of her. All his worries about Mance and dealing with his bannermen were gone as Brynden took her. He soon spilled his seed inside of her and they both collapsed onto their bed.

As much as he wanted to remain in bed with Val, Brynden knew he would have to face his bannermen sooner or later. It was moments like these that Brynden wished that Robb were still alive and king whilst he was still a prince and his only focus was dealing with their enemies. Those days were gone now and the north and his bannermen were his to deal with.

* * *

 **Sorry for taking a while with this chapter btw. I wanted to do a POV from someone not in the north this chapter, but going through them they still mostly would have been cannon so I scratched it out and decided just to do a Jon POV.**

 **Reviews**

 **Blaze1992: I cut out the lemon at the end of the chapter because I thought it would be a good place to end the chapter. I also probably won't be doing that many lemons anyway for now on and if there are some it will probably be short like how GRRM does it. The Night's Watch would have to be fools to try something when Brynden has the strength of the north behind him and Stannis won't try anything because Brynden threatened to have him and all of his men put to the sword should anything happen to him.**

 **jean d'arc: I agree, but there are always risks when it comes to making alliances and Brynden understands that they need the wildlings if they hope to stand a chance against the Others despite his doubts about taking a wildling woman as his wife.  
**

 **Freakdogsflare: Haven't decided what to do with the Dreadfort yet, but I'm considering to have Sansa marry someone else to help secure an alliance with another Great House. As for Bran, Rickon, and Arya, they'll most likely be wed to other northern houses.**

 **FractiousDay: Don't forget that Brynden and Cat have been separated for a long time since the Twins and she never thought about telling Brynden about what happened to Renly when they were at Seagard. She only now remembered to tell him because Stannis is at the Wall with her son and fears for his safety.**

 **alec-potter: Do you mean actors, if so then I would not know. I'm not the best at that sort of thing when thinking of an actor who portrays my character so I'm not the best person to ask about that stuff.  
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	20. Eyes of the Wolf

**Did you guys miss me? Sorry for taking a while with this chapter. As I diverge more from the books it takes a while for me to get started writing on the next chapter, not to mention that I was busy planning on how the two battles for this book will go.**

 **Anyways, enjoy and review.**

* * *

It was hard for Jaime to imagine a man like Stannis Baratheon making common cause with Brynden Stark whilst he still called himself a king. What made Jaime even more curious was that Brynden Stark had allowed the wildlings through the Wall and taken one of them as his wife. He never thought the Blackwolf would be as foolish as the Young Wolf to take a savage as his wife. Brynden Stark however was the least of his worries at the moment.

It had been a few days since Lord Tywin Lannister's funeral procession had departed King's Landing through the Gate of the Gods. Cersei had tasked Jaime with taking Dragonstone from Lord Stannis whilst he was still in the north at the Wall. She had been giddy as a maiden when she learned that Stannis had abandoned Dragonstone, certain that he had finally given up the fight and sailed away to exile. When word came down from the north that he had turned up again at the Wall, forming an alliance with Brynden Stark, her fury had been fearful to behold. Jaime recalled the last meeting he had with Cersei before leaving the Red Keep.

"Even a crippled lion may inspire fear," Cersei had told him. "I want Dragonstone. I want Rolland Storm chained or dead." His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted.

Still, Jaime was glad that he was finally doing something other than guarding Tommen and watching him put seals on every paper that was put in front of him. Part of him was also glad to put King's Landing behind him. He had no taste for the company of the lickspittles and fools who surrounded Cersei. "The smallest council," they were calling them in Flea Bottom, according to Addam Marbrand.

Forty knights and as many esquires awaited him outside the Red Keep's stables. Half were westermen sworn to House Lannister, the others recent foes turned doubtful friends. Ser Dermot of the Rainwood would carry Tommen's standard, Red Ronnet Connington the white banner of the Kingsguard. A Paege, a Piper, and a Peckledon would share the honor of squiring for the Lord Commander. "Keep friends at your back and foes where you can see them," Sumner Crakehall had once counseled him. Or had that been Father?

The soldiers who had crowded the city's gambling dens and pot shops were largely gone now. Garlan the Gallant had taken half the Tyrell strength back to Highgarden, and his lady mother and grandmother had gone with him. The other half had marched south with Mace Tyrell and Mathis Rowan to invest Storm's End.

As for the Lannister host, two thousand seasoned veterans remained encamped outside the city walls, awaiting the arrival of Paxter Redwyne's fleet to carry them across Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone. Lord Stannis appeared to have left only a small garrison behind him when he sailed north, so two thousand men would be more than sufficient, Cersei had judged. They were his to command, Jaime thought.

The rest of the westermen had gone back to their wives and children, to rebuild their homes, plant their fields, and bring in one last harvest. Cersei had taken Tommen round their camps before they marched, to let them cheer their little king. She had never looked more beautiful than she did that day, with a smile on her lips and the autumn sunlight shining on her golden hair. Whatever else one might say about his sister, she did know how to make men love her when she cared enough to try.

Ser Ilyn Payne made his way to Jaime's side, looking like the beggar at the ball, as they marched out through the Mud Gate. Ser Ilyn had been half of Jaime's price, for swallowing his boy king's command like a good little Lord Commander. The other half had been Ser Addam Marbrand. "I need them," he had told his sister, and Cersei had not put up a fight. Most like she's pleased to rid herself of them.

"They are here, Jaime," Addam Marbrand told him, as he looked out at the Bay of Blackwater.

So they were, Jaime noted, as the Redwyne fleet appeared over the horizon. Once he was done with Dragonstone, Jaime hoped he would get a chance to face Brynden Stark in battle. A Lannister always pays his debts, Jaime thought, looking down at his stump.

* * *

"You should never have sent that man out beyond the Wall, Your Grace," the Greatjon said as they made their way back to the King's's Tower after seeing his uncle off.

The Blackfish had left at dawn along with Lords Mallister and Blackwood to take command of the Winter Fleet at the Gorge. The westerlands were weak from their previous engagements during the War of the Five Kings at Oxcross, the Crag, and Ashemark. Once Lannisport was sacked and taken, his uncle would be able to wreck havoc on their lands with most of their forces still at King's Landing. They would be able to pay back the Lannisters in kind for what they did to the riverlands. The Lannisters weren't the only ones who paid back their debts, Brynden thought, the north remembers.

"Mance Rayder cannot be trusted," Robett Glover added.

"We've been over this, my lords," Brynden sighed, wishing that his bannermen would just accept his decision about the wildlings. "Mance Rayder knows what needs to be done and he will honor his word. In order for there to be an alliance we must first start trusting each other. The man wants his people safe and behind our Wall. He won't get that if he betrays us and attacks us."

"But to let thousands of them through," the Greatjon said. "You heard the reports of the numbers of Tormund's host. It is said to be half of what Mance Rayder's host was before he attacked the Wall."

"No doubt most of them will be fighters with the Weeper and Rattleshirt slain," Lady Mormont added.

"And we will need every last one of those swords for the wars to come," Brynden said. If what Mance, Val, and Jon had told him about Tormund was true than he was certain that the man would agree to his terms, whether he liked them or not. The most difficult task Brynden had to deal with for now was getting his men and the wildlings to work together. Even Jon was having trouble getting his black brothers to accept their new alliance with the free folk.

"There is also the matter about the Lord Commander," Lord Harrion Karstark said. "Is it true that he means to man the abandoned castles of the Night's Watch with the wildlings? I doubt the black brothers will be pleased about that."

Where did you hear about that, Brynden wanted to ask, but decided against it. There was no point in keeping it a secret if his bannermen already knew about it. "Aye, it is. The Night's Watch does not have the manpower to garrison the castles along the Wall and so they will be given to the wildlings to help defend the Wall."

It was not something Brynden had agreed to at first, but Jon had insisted that the abandoned castles needed to be re-garrisoned. Jon hoped to have all of them garrisoned before the year was out, but did not have the men to do it. Even Stannis had agreed with Jon's decision before he had left for White Harbor. The man had hoped to give some of the castles to his own knights and lords, but they would have none of that. Brynden would be a fool to let southrons hold castles of the Night's Watch as their own seats.

His bannermen were not at all pleased by his and Jon's decision however about giving the seats to the wildlings. The Greatjon frowned, "I understand that they are our allies now, sire, but to give the castles of the Night's Watch to these savages is…"

"… folly?" finished Brynden. "I know how you all feel about this alliance, believe me, I do, my lords, but my brother has the right about it with re-garrisoning the abandoned castles along the Wall. The whole purpose about this alliance with the wildlings was to help defend the Wall against the threat that lies beyond. There are still fourteen castles that remain abandoned, and long leagues of the Wall that remain unwatched and undefended. Even with our numbers alone we cannot hope to man them all and there is still the Lannisters we must deal with. Ser Helman Tallhart holds Moat Cailin with a garrison of a thousand men, but they need more men to help rebuild the fortress."

They soon arrived at the King's Tower, where the great white battle standard of House Stark cracked like a whip from the roof. His guards bowed to Brynden as they reached the entrance. "That will be all, my lords. You are dismissed."

"Your Grace," his lords bowed and took their leave.

"The Lord Commander is waiting for you inside, sire," one of his guards said as Brynden passed them.

"How long has he been waiting?" Brynden asked, stopping at the door.

"Not long."

Brynden nodded before entering the tower. What did Jon want now? It had not been that long ago when they had spoken about Hardhome and re-garrisoning the castles with the free folk. He had already sent a raven to Lord Manderly to have him spare some ships for them to use when they sailed from Eastwatch to Hardhome. The Night's Watch employed a small fleet at Eastwatch from what Jon had told him, but they would need a few more if they hoped to bring back all of the wildlings that had taken refuge at Hardhome. He doubted Cotter Pyke would be pleased about using his fleet to help rescue wildlings. It seemed that most of the men here still wanted nothing to do with their new allies.

More guards stood outside his solar and bowed as Brynden entered the chambers. Jon waited for him by his desk where a map of the north was laid out, painted on a ragged piece of hide whilst he looked at the collection of Valyrian steel weapons Brynden had claimed from the Iron Islands. Brightroar, Nightfall, and Red Rain, such weapons deserved better than to be wielded by Ironborn scum.

"Didn't expect to see you here so soon," Brynden announced himself, shutting the door behind him. "What is it that you want with me this time?"

Jon frowned. "I take it that your lords have been giving you a hard time about Mance."

"You have no idea," Brynden sighed. "Father and Robb made ruling seem a lot easier than it is." He sat down at his desk, massaging his forehead. "There are some moments when I wonder if I made the right decision to let the wildlings through the Wall. Not to mention that my lords have still yet to accept Val as their queen." He wouldn't be surprised if they believed his decision to marry Val was just like Robb breaking his oath to Walder Frey and marrying Jeyne Westerling.

"You aren't the only who is still getting used to being in command. One of my brothers, Samwell Tarly, told me that it's like putting on new clothes. The fit feels strange at first, but once you've worn them for a while you get to feeling comfortable."

"If only it were that easy. I'd rather be in the riverlands fighting the Lannisters or even sailing to Dragonstone with Stannis than being stuck up here and ruling. Robb was born to lead, not me. The battlefield was where I belonged, leading Robb's armies against our enemies." There were times when he wished that he was no king or prince, but the second son of Eddard Stark. It should have been Father or Robb dealing with the wildlings at the Wall and the grievances of their bannermen.

"Who would ever have guessed that you and I would be the King in the North and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon smiled.

"We were both chosen, whether we wanted it or not," Brynden admitted, smiling. "I still have yet to figure out why you are here, Jon."

"It's about the food supplies. I know you brought enough food from the Iron Islands to supply your men at the Wall, but the Night's Watch does not have enough to support the wildlings on its own."

"The Vale seems a likely place to start. I am sending my mother to the Vale to seek an alliance with Lord Royce and allies. The Lords Declarant they call themselves. I also mean to wed Sansa to the heir to the Eyrie to secure their alliance. From what I've heard about my cousin, it is only a matter of time before Robert Arryn dies and is succeeded by his heir."

"You don't seem to care much about your cousin's fate," Jon pointed out.

"Had his mother supported our cause during the war we could have defeated the Lannisters with the aid of the Knights of the Vale. They could have made all the difference in the war, and with the Lords Declarant rebelling against Littlefinger, I mean to win them to my cause. With Sansa I can do that by marrying her to the heir to the Eyrie."

Mother would not like it and Brynden hated the thought of sending Sansa to the Vale after they had just got her back, but he needed to make alliances. The Lannisters were weak with Tywin Lannister gone and with Cersei Lannister ruling as Queen Regent, Brynden could seek out the Vale's aid whilst she dealt with Stannis. With Lysa gone, Brynden hoped the Vale would be easier to deal with now.

Before Jon could say something, a knock came from the door. "Pardon, Your Grace, a black brother is without," one of his guards announced.

"Who is it?" Brynden asked, looking at Jon.

"Clydas," a voice replied from the other side of the door. "I have a letter for you from Winterfell."

"Send him in," Brynden said, wondering what the contents of the letter could be about. When Stannis had left for Eastwatch, Brynden remembered receiving a raven from his mother, telling him about the details of Renly Baratheon's death, warning him not to trust Stannis Baratheon. As if he needed to be told that when he was just using Stannis until he no longer had anymore use of him.

The door swung open and Clydas entered to deliver the letter to Brynden. He bowed to him and Jon before swiftly taking his leave. "Another letter from my mother," Brynden told Jon as he unsealed it. His eyes widened as he read the letter.

"What is it?" Jon asked.

"It would seem that I have a daughter," Brynden replied, placing the letter on his desk, watching it curl up. "Her mother died giving birth to her."

Brynden found it hard to believe that a woman like Asha Greyjoy would die during childbirth. Then again it was not unheard of women dying whilst giving birth. His own mother's mother had died during childbirth as well. Still, Brynden couldn't believe that a woman like Asha would go out like that. He doubted she would have forgiven him for what he did to the Iron Islands had she lived, but the Ironborn had sealed their fate when they decided to invade the north.

Jon frowned. "You have a bastard."

"Aye, it was not something that I had intended when I had taken Asha into my bed." Their daughter must have been conceived on the night Brynden had taken her after he had learned what Theon had done to Winterfell. Brynden understood why Jon was not pleased with the news, as he knew what it was like to grow up as a bastard. "How do you think Val will take the news?" Brynden had no idea how the free folk's culture worked when it came to bastards, and couldn't help but wonder how Val would react when she learned about his daughter.

"I do not know. You will have to found out yourself when you tell her."

"Are you angry with me because I have a bastard?" Brynden asked. He knew how strongly his brother felt against fathering a bastard himself.

"No, just disappointed. What is your daughter's name?"

"Lyanna."

* * *

The king's voice was choked with anger. "You are a worse pirate than Salladhor Saan."

Davos watched as Stannis dealt with the envoy the Iron Bank had sent to them. He couldn't believe how much of a fool Cersei Lannister was to defer the payments the Iron Throne owed to the Iron Bank of Braavos. Could the Lannisters truly be so foolish? The Iron Bank of Braavos had a fearsome reputation when collecting debts. When princes failed to repay the Iron Bank, new princes sprang up from nowhere and took their thrones. As the pretender Tommen was about to learn. No doubt the Lannisters had good reason for refusing to honor King Robert's debts, but it was folly all the same.

"My brother's debts," Stannis muttered. "Joffrey's too, though that baseborn abomination was no kin to me."

"Your Grace," the banker said softly. "Pardon, but your ink has frozen. Perhaps a bit of heat... ?"

"I know a quicker way." Stannis drew his dagger. His king laid the blade of the knife against the ball of his left thumb, and slashed. "There. I will sign in mine own blood. That ought to make your masters happy."

"If it please Your Grace, it will please the Iron Bank."

Stannis dipped a quill in the blood welling from his thumb and scratched his name across the piece of parchment. "You will depart today. We will be sailing soon to Dragonstone. You are lucky to have caught us when you did."

The Braavosi slipped the roll of parchment inside a wooden tube. "I hope to have the honor of calling on Your Grace again when you are seated on your Iron Throne."

"You hope to have your gold, you mean. Save your pleasantries. It is coin I need from Braavos, not empty courtesy. Tell the guard outside I have need of Justin Massey."

"It would be my pleasure. The Iron Bank is always glad to be of service." The banker bowed.

"It seems I owe Brynden Stark one for having us wait here at White Harbor whilst the Blackfish sails with the Winter Fleet to Lannisport," Stannis said once the Braavosi left the room.

"The Lannisters will have no choice but to split their forces once they learn of the attack in the west," Davos pointed out.

"They are fools to have refused repaying their debts to the Iron Bank," Stannis said. "In the end they always get their money back, one way or the other."

"And what of Brynden Stark? Have you decided how to deal with him when we are done with Dragonstone? The north is behind him and will never back a southron king," Davos said.

Stannis had been none to pleased with the alliance he had made with Brynden Stark whilst he called himself king, but the true threat that lied beyond the Wall had forced him to swallow his pride and agree to the alliance. Davos knew however that once he won the Iron Throne, Stannis would want to deal with Brynden Stark and force him to give up his crown or be destroyed. He only hoped that the same fate that had befallen Renly did not happen to Brynden Stark for he had warned Stannis that his men would put them all to the sword should they try anything on him.

Stannis frowned. "We need not worry about Brynden Stark. I will deal with him when the time comes, as I will deal with all usurpers."

Ser Justin then entered the room. This knight was fair, with a neatly trimmed blond beard and thick straight hair so pale it seemed more white than gold. His tunic bore the triple spiral, an ancient sigil for an ancient House. One of the queen's men, Davos noted. "I was told Your Grace had need of me," Massey said, from one knee.

Stannis nodded. "You shall accompany the banker across the narrow sea."

"If there is to be a battle, my place is here with you."

"Your place is where I say it is. I have five hundred swords as good as you, or better, but you have a pleasing manner and a glib tongue, and those will be of more use to me at Braavos then here. The Iron Bank has opened its coffers to me. You will collect their coin and hire ships and sellswords. A company of good repute, if you can find one. The Golden Company would be my first choice, if they are not already under contract. Seek for them in the Disputed Lands, if need be. But first hire as many swords as you can find in Braavos, and send them to me by way of Eastwatch. Archers as well, we need more bows."

Ser Justin's hair had fallen down across one eye. He pushed it back and said, "The captains of the free companies will join a lord more readily than a mere knight, Your Grace. I hold neither lands nor title, why should they sell their swords to me?"  
"Go to them with both fists full of golden dragons," the king said, in an acid tone. "That should prove persuasive. Twenty thousand men should suffice. Do not return with fewer."

"Sire, might I speak freely?"

"So long as you speak quickly."

"Your Grace should go to Braavos with the banker." That was the wrong thing to say.

"Is that your counsel? That I should flee?" The king's face darkened. "That was your counsel on the Blackwater as well, as I recall. When the battle turned against us, I let you and Horpe chivvy me back to Dragonstone like a whipped cur."

"The day was lost, Your Grace.

"Aye, that was what you said. 'The day is lost, sire. Fall back now, that you may fight again.' And now you would have me scamper off across the narrow sea... "

"... to raise an army, aye. As Bittersteel did after the Battle of the Redgrass Field, where Daemon Blackfyre fell."

"Do not prate at me of history, ser. Daemon Blackfyre was a rebel and usurper, Bittersteel a bastard. When he fled, he swore he would return to place a son of Daemon's upon the Iron Throne. He never did. Words are wind, and the wind that blows exiles across the narrow sea seldom blows them back. That boy Viserys Targaryen spoke of return as well. He slipped through my fingers at Dragonstone, only to spend his life wheedling after sellswords. 'The Beggar King,' they called him in the Free Cities. Well, I do not beg, nor will I flee again. I am Robert's heir, the rightful king of Westeros. My place is with my men. Yours is in Braavos. Go with the banker, and do as I have bid."

"As you command," Ser Justin said.

"It may be that we shall lose this coming battle," the king said grimly. "In Braavos you may hear that I am dead. It may even be true. You shall find my sellswords nonetheless."

The knight hesitated. "Your Grace, if you are dead — "

" — you will avenge my death, and seat my daughter on the Iron Throne. Or die in the attempt."

Ser Justin put one hand on his sword hilt. "On my honor as a knight, you have my word."

For all their sakes, Davos hoped that Stannis was wrong and that they survived their battle with the Lannisters at Dragonstone.

* * *

"Do you have to go?"

"I must, your brother has given me an order," Catelyn told Bran. Her king, she reminded herself, wishing that Robb was still alive, but he was gone and Brynden had succeeded Robb as the King in the North. She hoped that Brynden received her raven about Lyanna's birth and the death of Asha Greyjoy. "You are the lord of Winterfell now whilst I am away and your brother is at the Wall," the Prince of Winterfell, Catelyn thought.

She hated leaving her children behind again, but Catelyn would do her duty for her family and her king. It was still hard for her to believe that Lysa was gone, and though she was her sister, Catelyn had never forgiven her for refusing to lend the Vale's support during the War of the Five Kings. Brynden knew they needed more allies and had insisted that Sansa accompany her to meet her betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, the heir to the Eyrie. Catelyn had never met the boy, but she had heard about the boy already having a bastard.

They would need the marriage though to win the support of the Vale for Harrold was the son of the youngest daughter of Alys Arryn, the sister of Jon Arryn, and Elys Waynwood. For Sansa's sake, Catelyn hoped the boy was gentler than the bastard Joffrey. Her daughter had not been so enthusiastic when she learned about Brynden's plan to wed her to Harrold Hardyng, wanting nothing more than to stay at Winterfell. Catelyn wished that her daughter could remain at Winterfell as well, but she was old enough and flowered to be wed, and her son needed to make alliances with the Lannisters having the support of the Reach and Dorne, along with the river lords. No doubt her son had plans for Bran, Rickon, and Arya as well to build more alliances.

Catelyn turned to look at Sansa as she mounted her horse with Brienne guarding them along with a few more household guards. They would follow the White Knife down to the sea, and hire a ship at White Harbor, just as she did with Ser Rodrik when she had gone to King's Landing to meet up with Ned. She only hoped they had a ship to spare for most of the Manderly fleet would be departing for Dragonstone and several more would be sailing to Eastwatch before heading to Hardhome. Catelyn couldn't understand her son's reasoning for saving the wildlings and knew that he would only anger the northern lords by settling them on the Gift.

She also did not at all know what to make of her son's decision to take one of the wildling women as his wife and queen. There were plenty of other noble ladies Brynden could have wed to strengthen an alliance with his bannermen, but to take a wilding, as his wife was such folly in her eyes. Catelyn blamed the bastard Jon Snow and Stannis Baratheon for influencing her son to take a savage as his wife, even if the rumors about her beauty were true. Such an alliance with the wildlings was unheard of and Catelyn didn't see how the alliance could help them in the war.

"We are ready, my lady," one of the guards announced.

Catelyn nodded and looked back at Bran. "I will be back soon, I promise. Lord Royce is an old friend and will keep us safe during our stay in the Vale."

"What about Lyanna?" Bran asked.

Catelyn held back a frown, thinking about her son's bastard daughter. Lyanna had inherited most of her mother's looks, but had her father's eyes. Out of all of her sons, Brynden was the only one to take after Ned, like his bastard Jon Snow. "The wet nurses will look after her while we are away." Lyanna Snow may be a bastard, but she was Brynden's daughter, and that made her part of her family, whether Catelyn liked it or not.

She gave Bran, Rickon, and Arya a hug before she mounted her horse and rode with the guards and Sansa beneath the portcullis. The snow was light and Catelyn hoped it would snow heavily on them during their journey to White Harbor. Looking back at Winterfell, Catelyn was certain she would see it again when her business in the Vale was done.

* * *

 **Not my best chapter, I know, as it took me a while to get started writing it, but I wanted to show what the Lannisters and Stannis were up to and had trouble writing it all down. Planning the chapter is a lot more easier than writing it, lol. I'll try to get the next chapter up faster than this one, but no promises.  
**

 **I'm probably going to get some negative response for this chapter, but I did warn you guys that I was going to kill Asha off.**

 **As for the Arryn or Harry Potter story, I will post it once I have at least ten chapters planned and written. Most likely I will start on them when I am done with this story.**


	21. Night is Dark and Full of Terrors

**I had hoped to finish this chapter in time before episode 2 of Game of Thrones aired, but I got stuck with writing Cersei's POV. Not to mention that I was debating about adding a Bran POV so that I could show some of the changes to Winterfell and its household.  
**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

This was not the first time Melisandre had played this game with the false king, Brynden Stark. She danced the same dance with Stannis Baratheon, back in the beginning. It did not at all surprise her when Brynden Stark had summoned her to his chambers to speak in private. He did not trust her nor love her, but no doubt he was curious about her and hoped to use her as Stannis had. Both Brynden Stark and Stannis Baratheon had no love for one another, that much was clear to her, but they both had a part to play in the war against the Other. That much she had seen in the flames.

Her guards escorted her to the false king's chambers. Stannis had left a dozen of his men behind to serve her when he marched south, but most of them were useless. His Grace had need of every sword, so all he could spare were grey-beards and cripples. One man had been blinded by a blow to his head in the battle by the Wall, another lamed when his falling horse crushed his legs. Her sergeant had lost an arm to a giant's club. Three of her guard were geldings that Stannis had castrated for raping wildling women. She had two drunkards and a craven too. The last should have been hanged, as the king himself admitted, but he came from a noble family, and his father and brothers had been stalwart from the first.

Having guards about her would no doubt help keep the black brothers and northerners properly respectful, the red priestess knew, but none of the men that Stannis had given her were like to be much help should she find herself in peril. It made no matter. Melisandre of Asshai did not fear for herself. R'hllor would protect her.

Two guards in fur cloaks waited for her when they reached their destination. One of them knocked on Stark's door. "Your Grace, Lady Melisandre is here to see you."

"Send her in," the false king said.

"Your guards will have to wait outside, my lady," the guard told her.

"Leave us," Melisandre ordered her guards and they reluctantly obeyed. If she were in any danger, she would have foreseen it.

Once inside, Melisandre spotted Brynden Stark's huge black direwolf, curled up by the fire. She noticed that his wildling queen was not with them. Brynden Stark sat at his desk, studying one of his trophies he had claimed from the Iron Islands. "You wished to see me," Melisandre asked, crossing the room.

"Aye, I did," he replied, and she noticed a letter curled up on his desk by a candle. "Do you know what this is, my lady?" He asked, showing her a horn that was shiny black and twisted, bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

"Where did you get this?" Melisandre asked, running her hand along it. It was a twisted thing, six feet long from end to end, gleaming black and banded with red gold and dark Valyrian steel. The horn was as warm and smooth as fire, and so shiny that she could see a twisted likeness of her own features in its depths.

"I claimed it from a man named Euron Greyjoy, the last King of the Iron Islands before I killed him," Brynden Stark replied. He noticed her studying the Valyrian glyphs. "Can you read them?"

"I can," she replied, pointing at one of the glyphs. Here the horn is named. ' I am Dragonbinder, ' it says. Have you ever heard it sound?"

"No," the false king said, frowning. "No one has dared to blow the horn, including me."

"A wise decision," Melisandre turned the horn, examining the glyphs that crawled across a second of the golden bands. "Here it says, ' No mortal man shall sound me and live. ' "

Brynden Stark chuckled. "Then what is the point of the horn if you can't use it?"

Melisandre pointed to a band of steel. "Here ' Blood for fire, fire for blood. ' "

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn's master. The master of the horn must claim it with blood, but I take it that this is not the reason why I was summoned here."

"No, it is not," Brynden Stark admitted, taking the horn off the desk and storing it away. "I care not about what happened to Renly Baratheon as the Baratheons mean nothing to me anymore, but my mother believes that your king had the man killed with a shadow and fears that the same fate will befall upon me. I trust you and your king knows what will happen to you all should anything happen to me."

We will all be put to the sword, Melisandre remembered the false king's warning when her king had reluctantly agreed to an alliance with Brynden Stark. Both men had refused each other's terms, coming close to shedding blood until Lord Commander Jon Snow had convinced them to set their differences aside to face their common enemy together.

"You need not fear us, Brynden Stark. King Stannis understands the importance of this alliance as should you." Only together could they hope to prevail against the coming darkness. She left those words unsaid as she knew that Brynden Stark would not wish to hear them, no doubt believing that he could defeat this threat on his own.

Brynden smirked. "Well now I will be able to sleep easily for now on." She did not at all fail to notice the look he gave her when he made his way to the door.

He wants me, Melisandre realized. He did not at all love her or trust her, but he wanted her. Brynden Stark did not seem to mind her presence and was not at all like Stannis, who was uncomfortable around women and saw them as another entirely different race.

"Thank you for your time, my lady. Will you need an escort back to your chambers?" Brynden Stark asked, as he opened the door.

"I will be fine. Should you need me, you know where to find me." She smiled at him before taking her leave. Melisandre prayed to R'hllor that they would see another day as she made her way back to her chambers.

* * *

"That cannot be true." Cersei couldn't believe it when she had learned that Lannisport had been sacked and plundered, with the Lannister fleet burned or captured. Damn the Starks, Cersei cursed, wishing her father had finished Brynden Stark off the same way he had done with Robb Stark instead of allowing the Stark boy to flee back to the north. To make matters worse the northerners had decided to stay in the west and sack other castles.

"I'm afraid it is, Your Grace," Qyburn said with his hands hidden up his sleeves. "Ser Daven reports that the Blackfish is leading the northern army."

Daven, he was the one to blame for this. Cersei had named him Warden of the West after her uncle had refused to serve as Hand of the King, causing her to leave the defense of the westerlands in Daven's hands. "It is a long voyage from the north to Lannisport," she pointed out. "How could their ships come all that way without being seen?" Her father should have put a tighter security around Lannisport after the last attack when the Greyjoys had burned the Lannister fleet at anchor.

"No doubt they devised a similar strategy to the one the Ironborn used during Greyjoy's Rebellion, Your Grace," Orton Merryweather pointed out.

If only her uncle Kevan had accepted the position as Hand of the King they would not be in this mess. They had been so focused on taking Stannis's last strongholds in the south that they had forgotten about the north when they had fled from the riverlands after the red wedding with their tails tucked behind their legs. She had hoped that Brynden Stark and Stannis Baratheon would fight each other at the Wall, but that had proven to be in vain when they had made common cause with the wildling savages.

This was all but a ploy to distract her and her forces from Dragonstone and Storm's End, Cersei knew. Still, she knew that she could not afford to allow the northerners to do as they pleased in the west. Should she do nothing the western lords would see her as weak and she was anything but weak. She had no choice but to ask for the Reach's aid, with her brother and Lord Redwyne invested at Dragonstone.

She turned her attention to Ser Loras. "How many men can your brothers raise, Ser Loras?"

"Willas and Garlan can raise ten thousand men within a fortnight and twice that in a moon's turn, Your Grace," Ser Loras replied.

Those numbers should be more than enough to deal with the northern army the Blackfish was leading in the west. Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark were fools if they believed she would fall into their trap. They may have drawn the first blood in the west, but Cersei would be the one to emerge as the victor. "Send word to your brothers to raise their armies at once," she commanded. "They are to march to the Golden Tooth and from there they will deal with the northerners in the west."

"Your Grace should consider sending word to Lord Redwyne to raise his sails and deal with this Winter Fleet," Ser Harys Swyft wheezed.

She had almost forgotten about the northern fleet the Starks had after they had taken the ships of the Iron Fleet at the Fever River. Paxter Redwyne owned two hundred warships, and five times as many merchant carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers. Redwyne was encamped beneath the walls of Dragonstone, however, and the greater part of his fleet was engaged in ferrying men across Blackwater Bay for the assault on that island stronghold. The remainder prowled Shipbreaker Bay to the south, where only their presence prevented Storm's End from being resupplied by sea. His fleet would be more than enough to deal with the Stark fleet, but she could not risk it until Dragonstone was taken.

"No," Cersei snapped. "If Lord Redwyne sails his ships away, how are we to supply our men on Dragonstone? Without the Arbor's galleys, how will we maintain the siege of Storm's End?"

"The siege can be resumed later, after—"

Cersei cut him off. "While this Winter Fleet does pose a threat to the west along with the Blackfish's army, Storm's End is a hundred times more valuable than a few castles in the west we can easily recapture later, and Dragonstone . . . so long as Dragonstone remains in the hands of Stannis Baratheon, it is a knife at my son's throat. We will use Lord Redwyne and his fleet when the castle falls." It was the western lords' own fault for failing to hold their castles against the northerners. The queen pushed herself to her feet. "This audience is at an end."

Enjoy your small victories while you can, Stark. Once she was done with her enemies in the south, Cersei would do what her father had failed to do and finish the Starks off before naming a new loyal Warden of the North for her son.

* * *

It was times like these that Bran missed Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin. As he sat through another meeting with his brother's bannermen in the Great Hall as they came to witness Larence Snow be legitimized as a Hornwood and be named as the new Lord of the Hornwood. He wished that he was at sea with his uncle the Blackfish or at the Wall with Brynden and Jon, but he was his brother's heir now and the Stark in Winterfell while Brynden was at the Wall dealing with the wildlings and his mother was sailing to the Vale of Arryn with Sansa to wed her to the heir to the Eyrie.

Winterfell did not at all feel the same to him despite the builder's best attempts to repair all the damages Ramsay Snow had done during the sack. The household had also changed since Brynden had been hailed as King in the North following Robb's fall in the red wedding. A few members from the household of his mother's home had come from Deepwood Motte to replace those they had lost in the sack. Ser Desmond Grell had taken over Ser Rodrik's duties as master-at-arms and Ser Robin Ryger had joined their household guards as second-in-command to Hallis Mollen. They were one of the few from the riverlands to abandon the Trident and follow his brother north.

Not for the first time, Bran couldn't help but wonder how much the war had changed his brother. He never knew someone like his loving and caring brother could be the Demon of the North, slaughtering all of the inhabitants of the Iron Islands, even if many people in the north agreed with his actions. They however had been none too pleased when they learned that their king had allowed the wildlings through the Wall and taken one of them as his wife and their queen. Osha had been surprised when she had learned of his brother's actions, saying she never thought she would see the day when her people would be allowed south of the Wall.

The Glover men from Deepwood Motte soon arrived, along with a large party of Tallharts from Torrhen's Square. The Tallharts had been none to pleased with their king's decision to legitimize Larence Snow when Leobald Tallhart's sons had hoped to receive the castle and its lands, with their mother being a sister to the late Lord Halys Hornwood.

"My prince, it is time," Maester Tybald told Bran from his side. The maester had entered into the service of Winterfell following the downfall of House Bolton, and had replaced Maester Luwin, taking charge of the ravens and messages. The other maesters that had been summoned to Winterfell had been sent back to their respective castles.

Bran nodded and rose from his seat. He had no choice but to play his part as the Prince of Winterfell while Brynden was away. "Larence Snow," he called out, and the sons of Leobald Tallhart frowned when they heard his name called.

A boy about fourteen years, taller than Bran, stepped forward, standing in front of Bran, Maester Tybald, and Ser Kyle Condon. Bran remembered not that long ago when Ser Rodrik had questioned the steward of Deepwood Motte about Larence Snow, with the steward praising the lad's wits and courage. "My prince," Larence Snow sunk to his knees.

"Larence Snow, here in sight of gods and men, do you swear your loyalty to House Stark to serve as our bannermen and come to our aid whenever called upon?"

"I do, my prince."

"Then by the royal decree of His Grace, Brynden Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North, you are hereby named Lord of the Hornwood and from this day until your last you are Larence Hornwood, son of Lord Halys Hornwood. You knelt as a Snow now rise as a Hornwood, my lord."

"Thank you, my prince," Lord Larence Hornwood said, rising to his feet.

"It has also been decided that with the death of Daryn Hornwood, you shall wed Alys Karstark in his place." Those were their customs. With Daryn Hornwood's death, it fell onto Larence Hornwood to take his brother's place.

"I shall honor the agreement my lord father made with the Karstarks of Karhold, my prince," Larence Hornwood vowed.

"Then if there is nothing else, this meeting is done," Bran announced. He only hoped that his brother knew what he was doing and that Larence Hornwood was up to the task of being a lord.

* * *

Val had taken the news of his bastard better than Brynden would have believed she would have taken it. She was a woman of the Free Folk, Brynden reminded himself, knowing that a woman from the south like his mother would not at all be pleased to hear that he had a bastard and would not want them to be raised in their household alongside their trueborn children. Still, Brynden was surprised when Val told him that in their culture Asha would have been his wife as he had taken her to his bed by force and claimed her for himself. That was not at all how Brynden saw it and he couldn't believe how easily Val had shrugged off the fact that he had a bastard.

"I was never yours when you took this Greyjoy woman into your bed so why should I care about your daughter," Val had told him. Just like that, she had earned his respect for Brynden knew Val would never treat Lyanna the way his mother had treated Jon Snow for she did not care about his daughter being a bastard.

Brynden still had much to learn about the Free Folk and their culture. Even if his bannermen and black brothers did not agree with his and Jon's decision to let the wildlings through the Wall, Brynden found himself sympathizing with the wildlings for it was not their fault when they had been on the other side of the Wall when it had been built. They were just unlucky to be on the wrong side and were fighting for survival. In many ways the Free Folk were more civilized than the Ironborn and would not stab them in the back. He could only hope that in time his bannermen and the brothers of the Night's Watch would accept the Free Folk as their allies and not as their enemies. They would all need to band together when the true threat Jon and Stannis believed came for them.

Those were the least of his worries at the moment however as he waited for his bannermen to arrive in his solar to discuss about the Blackfish's successful attack on Lannisport. Outside, Brynden could hear the sound of arrows being nocked and loosed. One of the first things his brother had done as Lord Commander was institute daily archery drill for the entire garrison, even stewards and cooks. The Watch had been placing too much emphasis on the sword and too little on the bow, he had said, a relic of the days when one brother in every ten had been a knight, instead of one in every hundred.

While he waited, Brynden hoped his mother would be successful in her task to secure an alliance with the Vale. As much as he hated to admit it, the north and the free folk could not hope to match the combined powers of Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and the Twins on their own. Even with Lord Tywin gone, he still would have to worry about their allies.

Despite the odds being against them, Brynden would never stop fighting to secure the North's independence. Just like his bannermen, Brynden had no desire to be ruled by a southron king after everything that had happened to them in the war. Robb was gone, but Brynden would do whatever it took to ensure their freedom from the south. They may not agree with his decision about the Free Folk, but Brynden was certain they knew he was doing everything he could to secure the Kingdom of the North, Robb had died fighting for.

I will be a better king than Robb ever was, Brynden vowed. There were still days that Brynden wished Robb was still here, but he was gone and the north was his to rule and protect now. He couldn't help but wonder what Robb and their father would have done in his place with the wildlings, along with dealing with Stannis Baratheon. His father would have bent the knee to Stannis no doubt, but Brynden had no idea how Robb would have dealt with the southron king. He was already walking on thin ice with his bannermen in dealing with the wildlings, and Brynden already knew how they would react when he told them of his planned mission with Jon to go to Hardhome.

A knock came from the door and Brynden knew that it was time. "Your Grace, Lords Umber, Karstark, Glover, and Mormont are without," Smalljon Umber announced.

"Send them in," Brynden got to his feet as the door swung open and his bannermen entered the room. "Thank you all for coming. I have just received word from my uncle that they were successful in their attack on Lannisport."

"It's about time we've dealt some damage to the Lannisters," the Greatjon said.

"Where is the Blackfish now, Your Grace?" Robett Glover asked.

"He is currently harrying their shorelines," Brynden replied. Just as he had commanded, the Blackfish had brought twenty ravens onboard to keep in contact with him of their current situation. It was only a matter of time before the Lannisters sent a force to deal with them.

"That will certainly get their attention," Harrion noted.

"I have sent word to White Harbor so that Stannis can set sail for Dragonstone. Even with our attacks in the west, I have no doubt the Lannisters will remain focused on Dragonstone, but with Stannis in command of the Manderly fleet, the Redwyne fleet won't stand a chance." Though he had no love for Stannis, Brynden knew the man would be able to come up with a plan to defeat the Redwynes.

"Still, I doubt the Lannisters would divert the men they currently have invested to Dragonstone to the west," Lady Mormont said.

"I would be surprised if they did," Brynden said.

The Greatjon frowned. "Then why attack Lannisport, Your Grace?"

"To send the Lannisters a message. The north remembers and the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts back," Brynden replied. Even if the Trident was no longer part of their kingdom, Brynden would make the Lannisters suffer the same devastation to their lands just as the riverlands had during the war.

Harrion grinned. "Then the rest is up to Stannis."

Now here comes the hard part. "There is also another matter I wished to discuss with you all, my lords. It is about the wildlings."

Just like that, his bannermen frowned at the mention of their new allies. This would not be easy, but if Jon had the courage to tell his black brothers about their mission to Hardhome than so could Brynden.

"What about them?" The Greatjon asked.

"We all know of the host that has gathered around Tormund Giantsbane, but there is another that has gathered at Hardhome. The Lord Commander and I have decided to go there and bring them back here to join the rest of their people south of the Wall."

"You mean to let more of these savages through?" Harrion asked.

"One of those savages is your queen, my lord." They are my people now, just as much as all of you. Even if his lords did not like it, the Free Folk were his responsibility now and if he could save more of them then he would. "If we do nothing they will starve and die." And become wights if what Jon told him was to be believed. He still had his doubts, but Brynden trusted his brother even if what he had told him sounded mad.

"They chose their fate when they decided to go to that cursed place," Greatjon growled. "Why should we waste our resources to rescue them?"

They are all fools. "Because of the threat that is coming, my lords. I know it is hard to believe, but I trust my brother. He wouldn't lie about such a threat. I would rather have these savages you call them as allies than foes."

"Once they are behind our Wall and are at full strength they will stab us all in the back when we let our guards down," Lady Mormont said.

"Have you forgotten that we have hostages, my lords? The same terms that I gave to those after the battle beneath the Wall and to Tormund when he arrives will also be given to them. I wanted you all to know that before I leave with the Lord Commander for Hardhome. You are all dismissed." Brynden sat back down at his desk while his lords swiftly took their leave.

Damn you, Jon, Brynden cursed. It was because of Jon and Stannis Baratheon that he was in this mess with his lords. How could he have been so foolish to believe it would be an easy task to unite his people and the free folk? He had hoped that his marriage to Val would help bridge the gap, but even his bannermen seemed to refuse to acknowledge Val as their queen. Even his own guards did not enjoy the thought of accompanying him and Jon to Hardhome to rescue the wildlings.

He smiled when Shadow looked over at him from the brazier. "Looks like we are on our own with this one, boy." Looking at the flames, Brynden was suddenly reminded of the red woman. He also remembered his mother's warning about Renly Baratheon's death. At least he wouldn't have to worry about ending up like Renly anytime soon. The red woman had made that clear as he knew she wouldn't lie about such a thing when her life was in his hands with Stannis leagues away from them.

Later, Brynden was grateful to see Val when she entered their room. "Where have you been?" He asked as she hung her cloak.

"Out watching the crows practice with their bows," Val replied, making her way over to him.

Brynden smiled. "Well at least one of us was enjoying themselves."

He did not at all resist when Val pulled him to his feet. After his meeting with his bannermen, Brynden needed a release to keep his mind off things. He quickly undid her bodice and it fell to the ground in a puddle around her. He was not at all surprised to see that Val was not wearing a brassiere underneath her bodice.

"Looks like someone is getting excited down there," Val whispered into his ear, gently brushing her hands against his breeches where his member was bulging.

"I'm not the only one," Brynden grinned, feeling how wet Val's sex was.

"I take it your lords did not agree with your decision to go to Hardhome with Lord Crow," Val said while undoing his breeches.

"They would prefer to sit back and do nothing," Brynden sighed, burying his face into her neck, taking in her sweet scent while he grasped her breasts. "I was a fool to believe that our marriage could help heal centuries of bad blood between our people."

"I warned you that it would not be easy," Val moaned as he slid one of his hands down her thighs and jammed two fingers up inside her.

"I know," Brynden groaned, feeling Val's soft hands stroke his manhood.

Val then gave a startled squeal when he lifted her off from the ground by the waist to seat her on his desk. He ignored the mess they made when parchments and letters scattered off the desk. Before they could continue, both Brynden and Val stopped what they were doing when they heard a noise from outside. "That was a horn," Brynden noted.

From the brazier, Shadow pricked up his ears. "Crows," Val wondered, her body tensing up.

"Hopefully," Brynden said. One blast was for Rangers returning.

Then it came again. The sound seemed to fill the solar. "Two blasts," Val whispered. Wildlings, Brynden hoped.

Nothing could be heard from outside and Brynden was certain that northmen, black brothers, and free folk were all waiting in silence, listening. An eternity seemed to pass until Brynden sighed in relief. "Two blasts." Mance.

Tormund Giantsbane had come at last.

* * *

 **So I know that it is a bit early to ask, but I was wondering what name you guys think I should give to Brynden and Val's firstborn son and heir. I'm leaning towards Cregan as I think that Cregan Stark would be a fitting name for a King in the North, but I'm also thinking about Harlon, Artos, and Rodrik. Let me know what you guys think, but so far I am definitely leaning towards Cregan as the future heir of House Stark.  
**

 **Reviews**

 **Dipsyy: At least 20, 30 or maybe more. Don't take my word for it as I'm not certain yet, but as long as I am just focused on this story, I'll probably finish it before GRRM ever publishes The Winds of Winter, lol.**

 **mpowers045: Unlike Jon, Lyanna is part of Catelyn's family, so she will definitely be treated better than Jon was because she is her son's daughter.**

 **Old one Griffin: There are already a few Giants that settled on the Gift when they were captured along with Mance at the battle beneath the Wall. The others will be with Tormund's host.**

 **FractiousDay: The raven Catelyn sent is different than the one she sent to Brynden before. I just didn't mention it last chapter because they were focused on different things at the moment.**

 **Stannisfan: I wouldn't call it a bad decision. And Cat is a good negotiator, as like jean said, she was able to get someone like Walder Frey to join their cause at the time when he could have remained loyal to the Crown or remain neutral in the war.  
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 **jean d'arc: Thanks, I'm definitely going to be showing more of what's going on in the different fronts in later chapters as I diverge more from the books.**

 **Friendlystranger: Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I'll just keep it as Asha dying from childbirth. As for the action, like I told Blaze earlier, the battles won't be until like the end of the fourth book.**

 **Kazetoame: Still a better match than Tyrion, Joffrey, or Ramsay, IMO. Sansa's match to Harrold helps bring the Vale to his cause, and that's what Brynden needs at the moment. Unlike Robb, Brynden understands that marriages are meant to build alliances not about love, and Brynden is the head of his house, so Sansa doesn't really get a say in this matter.  
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	22. Ours is the Fury

**Thanks for all of your suggestions last chapter. Now I know for certain that Brynden's firstborn son will be named Cregan. This chapter will feature my first ever naval battle, so go easy on me, lol. The one from the Last Storm I wouldn't really count as a naval battle, as it was mostly just a siege.  
**

 **Enjoy and review**

* * *

The Vale looked just the same as Catelyn remembered from her last visit. As she saw the snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loom above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the Eyrie perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer.

At least this time, Catelyn didn't have to worry about being ambushed by the mountain clans. Catelyn had learned from Bronze Yohn that the mountain clans were bolder now after they had come back from the war, but she had a stronger escort this time than the one she had when she had brought Tyrion to the Eyrie.

Not for the first time, Catelyn wished that her son had gone himself to negotiate with the Lords Declarant, but he was still stuck at the Wall, dealing with the wildlings and trying to keep the peace with the new alliance. Even the sworn brothers of the Night's Watch were wary of their new allies and reluctant to trust them from what Catelyn had learned from Brynden's letter. She just hoped she would not fail him like she had failed Robb when she had tried to convince the Baratheon brothers to make common cause against the Lannisters.

Even if she did not at all trust Stannis Baratheon after what she had witnessed the night of Renly's death, Catelyn had no choice but to accept her son's decision to ally with the man. Brienne had been none too pleased about the alliance and had kept her distance from Stannis Baratheon and his men while they were at White Harbor.

Entering the Lords Declarant war tent, Catelyn was greeted by Yohn Royce and the other members. "Lady Stark," Yohn Royce bowed. The Lord of Runestone towered over her. Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break most younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands.

Lord Yohn Royce had been one of the first of the Lords Declarant to greet Catelyn and Sansa when they had arrived in the Vale from their journey from White Harbor. From what Catelyn had learned about when they had formed was after her sister's fall, where they had gathered at Runestone, making a pact together, vowing to defend Lord Robert, the Vale, and one another. Their declaration made no mention of Petyr, the Lord Protector of the Vale, but spoke of "misrule" that must be ended, and of "false friends and evil counselors" as well. She only hoped that when their task was done they would swear their swords to her son's cause when Sansa was wed to Harrold Hardyng, sealing their alliance with the Vale.

"My lord," Catelyn greeted back. "I trust our agreement still stands?"

"It does, my lady," Bronze Yohn replied. "Once we are done here we will declare for House Stark once your daughter weds Harrold Hardyng."

"We will aid your son in the wars to come, my lady," Lady Waynwood added. Lady Anya was the only woman amongst the Lords Declarant, and wore a deep green mantle with the broken wheel of Waynwood picked out in beads of jet. Harrold Hardyng was her ward and had agreed to the match so long as Harrold did as well.

"Then let us begin the ascent and be done with this mess," Young Lord Hunter said. His ermine cloak had five silver fanned on a brooch pinned to it.

Catelyn recalled the last time she had made the ascent to the Eyrie, wishing that she did not have to go through it again. It took most of a day to make the climb, even on mule back. Afoot, most men took several days. Sansa had remained behind to get to know her future husband while Brienne and Ser Lyn Corbray accompanied them to the Eyrie, leaving the rest of her guards to protect her daughter.

She was not at all pleased when she was once more escorted to the top by Mya Stone. Catelyn had nothing against this girl, but she was suddenly reminded of her own son's bastard daughter back at Winterfell and of Ned's, who was now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Once again, she had no desire to go the rest of the way afoot, and like Lord Redfort, Belmore, and Lady Waynwood, she chose to be drawn up by the winch while the other lords made the climb.

Once they were all gathered at the Crescent Chamber, they were greeted by one of the servants in Lord Robert's name and served bread and cheese and cups of hot mulled wine in silver cups.

"The Lord Protector awaits you in the solar. If my lords would follow me." From the Crescent Chamber they climbed a steep flight of marble steps that bypassed both undercrofts and dungeons and passed beneath three murder holes, which the Lords Declarant pretended not to notice. Belmore was soon puffing like a bellows, and Redfort's face turned as grey as his hair. The guards atop the stairs raised the portcullis at their coming. "This way, if it please my lords." A square-faced stocky man with a squashed nose and a mat of nappy grey hair stood outside the solar. He opened the door for them and followed them inside.

Petyr was seated at the trestle table with a cup of wine to hand, looking over a crisp white parchment. He glanced up as the Lords Declarant filed in. He did not at all seemed surprise to see Catelyn amongst the group. "My lords, my ladies, be welcome." His eyes rested on her for a moment before focusing his attention back to the others. "The ascent is wearisome, I know. Please be seated."

Catelyn could not trust him not after all she had learned from Tyrion during their journey to the Eyrie. What could he have hoped to gain by lying to her? Yet even after Ned's fall, Catelyn had heard that Petyr had continued to serve the Lannisters during the War of the Five Kings, eventually being named Lord of Harrenhal.

She remained silent as she along with the other members of the group arranged themselves side by side . . . all save Nestor Royce, who hesitated before walking around the table to take the empty chair beside Lord Petyr, and Lyn Corbray, who went to stand beside the hearth instead. The heart-shaped ruby in the pommel of his sword shone redly as he warmed his hands.

"I have been reading this remarkable declaration of yours," Petyr began. "Splendid. Whatever maester wrote this has a gift for words. I only wish you had invited me to sign as well."

Before they could continue, the door to the solar swung open and they all turned as Maester Colemon entered, looking nervous and shaken. "Pardon the interruption, my lords, my ladies."

Petyr frowned. "What is it? We were not to be disturbed."

"Lord Robert is gone, my lord. The sickness took him."

* * *

The brooch that fastened Ser Rolland Storm's cloak was a field of yellow nightingales, wrought in black. He wore a suit of black plate armor. Storm had a pox-ravaged face and an air of tattered chivalry. The Bastard of Nightsong was no callow tourney champion but a seasoned killer. This one will never bend, Jaime thought, but he had to try to avoid bloodshed and get back to Cersei. Lord Redwyne had insisted that they starve the garrison out or create a breach in the walls through mining, but both options would take too long in Jaime's mind and he had no desire to invest his time with this castle.

These men on Dragonstone presented no threat to King's Landing, but Cersei insisted that the castle be taken.

He drew up a yard from Ser Rolland, and inclined his head to the man. "Kingslayer," said Storm.

That he would make that name the first word from his mouth spoke volumes, but Jaime was resolved to keep his temper. "Bastard," he responded. "Thank you for coming."

"State your terms and be done with it, Lannister."

Straight and too the point. Jaime doubted this knight would be easily convinced to surrender and bend the knee, but he had to try. "Surrender your men and the castle, bend the knee, and King Tommen will legitimize you and name you Lord of Nightsong and of the Marches." At least this parley would be the shortest one Jaime had been in.

"A tempting offer, but your king is a bastard born of incest, and if I recall, Ser Philip Foote, the man who slew my brother, was named Lord of Nightsong and of the Marches after the Blackwater."

"That can be easily changed, Ser. All it would take is a royal decree from the king. You have my word on that"

"Your word of honor?" Ser Rolland raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know what honor is?"

A horse. "I will swear any oath that you require."

"Spare me, Kingslayer."

"I want to. Strike your banners and open your gates and I'll grant your men their lives. Your men shall be free to go where they will, though I will require them to surrender their arms and armor. As promised earlier, you will be granted a royal decree of legitimization along with the lands and titles of your house."

"The answer is no, Lannister. The only king I will serve is Stannis Baratheon."

"If you will not yield the castle, I must storm it. Hundreds will die."

"Hundreds of mine. Thousands of yours."

"Your garrison will perish to a man."

"I know that song. Do you sing it to the tune of 'The Rains of Castamere'? My men would sooner die upon their feet fighting than on their knees beneath a headsman's axe."

This is not going well. "This defiance serves no purpose, ser. The war is done and your king has fled to the north."

"To protect the realm. Now he has formed an alliance with the Demon of the North and the wildings. It is only a matter of time before they return."

"By then the castle will be ours. Your king is a lost cause."

"You must be blind as well as maimed, ser. Lift your eyes, and you will see that the stag still flies above our walls."

"I've seen him. He looks lonely. Your king has no more power in the south. Most of your fellow storm lords have bent the knee and sworn their fealty to the Iron Throne. It is only a matter of time before the rest follow. Only Storm's End and Dragonstone remains. Lords Tyrell and Rowan are laying siege to Storm's End as we speak. We have twenty times your numbers."

"I could care less about your numbers, Lannister. No matter what you say, my answer will still remain the same."

"There is a quicker way to decide the matter. A single combat."

Ser Rolland grinned. "When you were whole it would have been a good fight, but now it is not worth the risk nor the joy in killing you. I have my orders from my king and I will continue to obey them."

"Are there any terms you will accept?" he demanded of the Bastard of Nightsong.

"From you?" Ser Rolland shrugged. "No."

"Why did you even come to treat with me?"

"A siege is deadly dull. I also wanted to see this stump of yours that the Blackwolf took. If I were him, I would have taken more than just your hand." Ser Rolland wheeled his mare and trotted back to Dragonstone. The portcullis descended with a rush, its iron spikes biting deep into the ground.

* * *

Tormund Giantsbane was not at all the kind of man Brynden had expected from a leader of the free folk. He was not a tall man but was immensely broad, with thick gold bands graven with runes bound his massive arms, and he wore a heavy shirt of black ringmail that could only have come from a dead ranger. Brynden could understand why he was called Tormund Horn-Blower, as he bellowed loudly in his wroth.

Brynden could understand the man's anger as he bellowed often and loudly during their meeting. He roared, he shouted, he slammed his fist against the table so hard that a flagon of water overturned and spilled. A horn of mead was never far from his hand, so the spittle he sprayed when making threats was sweet with honey. Jon had accompanied Brynden to represent the Night's Watch as their Lord Commander, standing in silence whilst Tormund called his brother a craven, a liar, and a turncloak, cursed him for a black-hearted buggering kneeler, a robber, and a carrion crow, while accusing Brynden of wanting to fuck the free folk up the arse.

Twice he flung his drinking horn at Brynden and Jon's head, though only after he had emptied it. Tormund was not the sort of man to waste good mead. Brynden took it all in silence, never raising his own voice nor answering threat with threat, but neither did he give more ground than he had come prepared to give.

Finally, as the shadows of the afternoon grew long outside the tent, Tormund Giantsbane—Tall-Talker, Horn-Blower, and Breaker of Ice, Tormund Thunderfist, Husband to Bears, Mead-King of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts—thrust out his hand. "Done then, and may the gods forgive me. There's a hundred mothers never will, I know."

Brynden clasped the offered hand. They were his people now, whether his bannermen liked it or not. He was the Stark of Winterfell, who had slaughtered the Ironborn, taken a wildling as his wife and queen, and opened the gates and let the free folk march through, all for the sake of protecting his kingdom. There was no turning back now. "Done and done," he said.

Tormund's grip was bone-crushing. "I do not know which one of you is worse, you or your brother," he said as he did his best to turn Brynden's hand to pulp and bone. "Gold for gruel, and boys … a cruel price."

"A fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, I've heard it said. Three days?"

"If I live that long. Some o' my own will spit on me when they hear these terms." Tormund released Brynden's hand and looked at Jon. "Your crows will grumble too, if I know them, as will your kneelers," he said, looking back at Brynden. "And I ought to. I have killed your black buggers and raided your lands more than I can count."

"It might be best if you did not mention that so loudly when you come south of the Wall." Brynden doubted his bannermen would be pleased to hear that.

"Har!" Tormund laughed. "Wise words. I'd not want you crows to peck me to death or your kneelers to hang me." He slapped Brynden and Jon's back. "When all my folk are safe behind your Wall, we'll share a bit o' meat and mead. Till then …" The wildling pulled off the band from his left arm and tossed it at Jon, then did the same with its twin upon his right. "Your first payment. Had those from my father and him from his. Now they're yours, you thieving black bastard."

They both had agreed that the wildling's payment would be given to the Night's Watch to help pay for more food supplies to be delivered to the Wall.

"I will take my leave then," Brynden told them, letting them speak alone as he knew that Jon and Tormund were acquainted with each other during his brother's time as a captive of the wildlings.

Outside the day was bright and cloudless. The sun had returned to the sky after a fortnight's absence, and to the south the Wall rose blue-white and glittering. On days like this the Wall shimmered bright as a Septon's crystal, every crack and crevasse limned by sunlight, as frozen rainbows danced and died behind translucent ripples. On days like this the Wall was beautiful.

Another lovely sight caught Brynden's eye as he made his way over to the horses. Val was amongst the small group of people Brynden and Jon had brought with them to the parley. Jon had brought two men of his and Ghost while Brynden had taken Smalljon Umber, Dacey Mormont, and Shadow; any more might have been seen as a sign of fear, and twenty men would have been of no more use than two if Tormund had been intent on blood. Shadow was the only protection Brynden needed; the direwolf could sniff out foes, even those who hid their enmity behind smiles.

Shadow was beside Val while Brynden noticed that Ghost was nowhere to be seen. His wife looked just as ravishing as ever, clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well; with her long braid the color of dark honey, and her cheeks flushed red from the cold.

"Where is Mance?" Brynden asked, noticing the man responsible for this parley was not present.

"He went on ahead to see his son," Val replied. "How did you fare with Tormund?"

"As well as it could be. Three days hence at dawn, Tormund's host will be passing through the Wall." The boys would go first, to serve as hostages for their sire's loyalty while the giants and the mammoths would take the long way around the Wall to Eastwatch.

"And then we will be heading to Hardhome," Val said.

"If all goes well," Brynden nodded, and then looked at Val. "You still wish to come with us?" He had tried to convince Val to remain behind while he, Mance, and Jon would head to Hardhome, but Val insisted on accompanying them. She was nothing like those southron ladies and could take care of herself, but Brynden still wished that she would remain at Castle Black.

Val smiled, "You still have much to learn about us, Stark."

That he did. Brynden mounted his horse as Tormund's eldest son, Toregg brought up Val's horse for her. Tall Toregg, he was called amongst the free folk. He overtopped his father by a foot.

As Val mounted her own horse, Jon and Tormund emerged from the tent, making their way over to them. "I was beginning to wonder if you two lovebirds were ever going to come out of that tent," Brynden grinned.

"Har!" Tormund laughed. "And here I was beginning to wonder if you had a heart, Stark."

Jon smiled. "We were just catching up."

"You'll have plenty time to do that once we're all behind the Wall. It is time that we were on our way."

"Aye," Tormund agreed, giving his brother a hearty slap. "Keep you two any longer, they're like to think we ate you."

"Dawn, then. Three days from now. The boys first."

"I heard you the first ten times. A man'd think there was no trust between us." He spat. "Boys first, aye. Mammoths go the long way round. You make sure Eastwatch expects them. I'll make sure there's no fighting, nor rushing at your bloody gate. Nice and orderly we'll be, ducklings in a row. And me the mother duck. Har!"

"We will be ready for you then," Jon said, mounting his own horse.

"As will we," the wildling chief ducked back inside his tent.

"And now the hard part awaits us," Brynden said, as they made their way back to the Wall.

"Aye," Jon agreed.

Tormund's wildlings watched them pass, peering out from tents and lean-tos beneath leafless trees. For every man of fighting age, Brynden saw three women and as many children, gaunt-faced things with hollow cheeks and staring eyes. When Mance Rayder had led the free folk down upon the Wall, his followers drove large herds of sheep and goats and swine before them, but now the only animals to be seen were the mammoths. If not for the ferocity of the giants, those would have been slaughtered too, he did not doubt. There was a lot of meat on a mammoth's bones.

Brynden saw signs of sickness too. That disquieted him more than he could say. If Tormund's band were starved and sick, what of the thousands who had followed Mother Mole to Hardhome? Once they were done here, they would need to hurry to Eastwatch if they hoped to save the ones at Hardhome.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, Shadow and Ghost loping at their heels. Mormont's raven followed them as far as the gate, then flapped upward as the rest of them dismounted. Horse went ahead with a brand to light the way through the icy tunnel.

A small crowd of black brothers and northern lords was waiting by the gate when Brynden and his companions emerged south of the Wall. Jon made his way over to his Sworn Brothers while Brynden approached his bannermen. The Greatjon came forward to speak for the rest. "If it please Your Grace, will it be peace or blood and iron?"

"Peace," Brynden Stark replied. "Three days hence, Tormund Giantsbane will lead his people through the Wall. As friends, not foes."

"How many?" Harrion Karstark asked.

"Fifty thousand, along with three hundred giants and more than two hundred mammoths. They will help the Night's Watch garrison their abandoned castles, the better to defend the Wall. Those who cannot fight will be settled on the Gift at Queenscrown."

"Queenscrown is a ruin, Your Grace," Old Flint said.

"It is, but given time it will be repaired along with the abandoned castles along the Wall. Now, forgive me my lords, but I shall retire for the evening." Taking Val's hand, Brynden led her to the King's Tower, with Shadow trailing behind them.

"Your kneelers are not pleased," Val told him.

"They have every right to be wary," Brynden said. "I'm about to let fifty thousand wildlings through the Wall, people who have been raiding our lands and fighting the Night's Watch for years. We are walking on thin ice with this alliance. It will all be for naught if anything goes wrong."

"Then see to it that it doesn't. Your people are not the only ones wary of this alliance. They will not risk such an action unless provoked."

"Let us hope that you are right."

His guards bowed their heads as they made their way into the tower and to their chambers. Smalljon and Dacey Mormont took their leave once they reached their chambers.

Brynden and Val said no more after that once they were inside and shared a night of passion, all worries of what was to come forgotten for the night.

Three days had passed since then and Brynden found himself making his way over to the stables after breaking fast with Val and his bannermen. Out in the yard, the eastern sky had just begun to lighten. There was not a wisp of cloud in sight. His horse was saddled and bridled and waiting for him, as was his brother.

"Are you ready?" Jon asked him.

Brynden shrugged. "Let's just get this over with."

Their guards followed them as well. Jon had chosen eight men in their prime as his guards while Brynden chose those who had fought beside him since the Green Fork. Val also accompanied them, as did Mance, despite the protests of his bannermen. Brynden wanted to show the free folk that he was serious about their alliance and they would believe it if they saw the King in the North and the King-Beyond-The-Wall together as allies.

A deep red blush had appeared in the east by the time they all assembled at the gate. The stars are going out, Brynden thought. When next they reappeared, they would be shining down upon a world forever changed. Brynden shared a look with Jon and nodded his head. It was time.

"Open the gates," the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch said softly.

"OPEN THE GATE! " Seven hundred feet above, the sentries heard and raised their warhorns to their lips. The sound rang out, echoing off the Wall and out across the world. Ahoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. One long blast. For a thousand years or more, that sound had meant rangers coming home. Today it meant something else. Today it called the free folk to their new homes. On either end of the long tunnel, gates swung open and iron bars unlocked. Dawn light shimmered on the ice above, pink and gold and purple.

Jon's steward led them underneath the ice, lighting the way through the gloom of the tunnel with an iron lantern. Brynden and Jon followed, leading their horses. Then their guardsmen. After them came Lord Steward Bowen Marsh and his stewards, a score of them, every man assigned a task. Above, Ulmer of the Kingswood and the Greatjon had the Wall. Two score of Castle Black and Brynden's best bowmen stood with them, ready to respond to any trouble down below with a rain of arrows.

North of the Wall, Tormund Giantsbane was waiting, mounted on a runty little garron that looked far too weedy to support his weight. His two remaining sons were with him, tall Toregg and young Dryn, along with three score warriors.

"Har! " Tormund called. "Guards, is it? Now where's the trust in that?"

"You brought more men than we did."

"So I did. Come here by me, lads. I want my folk to see you two, the King in the North and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. They need to learn that you kneelers and crows need naught t'be feared."

Like he was going to let that happen. Both Brynden and Jon whistled, and Shadow and Ghost came racing from the gate. Tormund's horse shied so hard that the wildling almost lost his saddle. "Stay," Brynden and Jon ordered their wolves.

"You two are black-hearted bastards," Tormund Horn-Blower lifted his own warhorn to his lips. The sound of it echoed off the ice like rolling thunder, and the first of the free folk began to stream toward the gate.

From dawn till dusk Brynden and Jon watched the wildlings pass.

The hostages went first, boys between the ages of eight and sixteen. "Your blood price," Tormund declared. "I hope the wailing o' their poor mothers don't haunt your dreams at night." Some of the boys were led to the gate by a mother or a father, others by older siblings. More came alone. Fourteen and fifteen-year-old boys were almost men, and did not want to be seen clinging to a woman's skirts. Two stewards counted the boys as they went by, noting each name on long sheepskin scrolls. A third collected their valuables for the toll and wrote that down as well. Not a single hostage balked or tried to slink away when his turn came to enter that gloomy tunnel.

Almost all the boys were thin, some past the point of gauntness, with spindly shanks and arms like twigs. That was no more than Brynden expected. Elsewise they came in every shape and size and color. He saw tall boys and short boys, brown-haired boys and black-haired boys, honey blonds and strawberry blonds and redheads kissed by fire. He saw boys with scars, boys with limps, boys with pockmarked faces. Many of the older boys had downy cheeks or wispy little mustachios, but there was one fellow with a beard as thick as Tormund's. Some dressed in fine soft furs, some in boiled leather and oddments of armor, more in wool and seal-skins, a few in rags. One was naked. Many had weapons: sharpened spears, stone-headed mauls, knives made of bone or stone or dragonglass, spiked clubs, tanglenets, even here and there a rust-eaten old sword. The Hornfoot boys walked blithe and barefoot through the snowdrifts. Other lads had bear-paws on their boots and walked on top of the same drifts, never sinking through the crust. Six boys arrived on horses, two on mules. A pair of brothers turned up with a goat. The biggest hostage was six-and-a-half feet tall but had a baby's face; the smallest was a runty boy who claimed nine years but looked no more than six.

Of special note were the sons of men of renown. Tormund took care to point them out as they went by. "The boy there is the son of Soren Shieldbreaker," he said of one tall lad. "Him with the red hair, he's Gerrick Kingsblood's get. Comes o' the line o' Raymun Redbeard, to hear him tell it. The line o' Redbeard's little brother, you want it true." Two boys looked enough alike to be twins, but Tormund insisted they were cousins, born a year apart. "One was sired by Harle the Huntsman, t'other by Harle the Handsome, both on the same woman. Fathers hate each other. I was you, I'd send one to Eastwatch and t'other to your Shadow Tower."

Other hostages were named as sons of Howd Wanderer, of Brogg, of Devyn Sealskinner, Kyleg of the Wooden Ear, Morna White Mask, and the Great Walrus …

Brynden was amused by the last one as Jon asked, "The Great Walrus? Truly?"

"They have queer names along the Frozen Shore."

Three hostages were sons of Alfyn Crowkiller, an infamous raider slain by Qhorin Halfhand. Or so Tormund insisted. "They do not look like brothers," his brother observed.

"Half-brothers, born o' different mothers. Alfyn's member was a wee thing, even smaller than yours, Lord Crow, but he was never shy with where he stuck it. Had a son in every village, that one."

Of a certain runty rat-faced boy, Tormund said, "That one's a whelp of Varamyr Sixskins." Brynden had learned from Jon and Tormund that his sire was a skinchanger.

When nine-and-ninety hostages had shuffled by them to pass beneath the Wall, Tormund Giantsbane produced the last one. "My son Dryn. You'll see he's well taken care of, or I'll cook your liver up and eat it."

Brynden gave the boy a close inspection. Bran' s age, though Dryn had none of Bran's sweetness, though. He was a chunky boy, with short legs, thick arms, and a wide red face—a miniature version of his father, with a shock of dark brown hair.

"He'll serve as my own page," Brynden promised Tormund, remembering the time when Elmar Frey had served as his squire.

"Hear that, Dryn? See that you don't get above yourself." To Brynden he said, "He'll need a good beating from time to time. Be careful o' his teeth, though. He bites." He reached down for his horn again, raised it, and blew another blast.

This time it was warriors who came forward. And not just one hundred of them. Thousands of them, Brynden judged, as they moved out from beneath the trees. One in every ten of them came mounted but all of them came armed. Across their backs they bore round wicker shields covered with hides and boiled leather, displaying painted images of snakes and spiders, severed heads, bloody hammers, broken skulls, and demons. A few were clad in stolen steel, dinted oddments of armor looted from the corpses of fallen rangers. Others had armored themselves in bones. There were spearwives with them, long hair streaming.

"You might have sent the women first," Brynden heard Jon say to Tormund. "The mothers and the maids."

The wildling gave them a shrewd look. "Aye, I might have. And you crows and kneelers might decide to close that gate. A few fighters on t'other side, well, that way the gate stays open, don't it?" He grinned. "I bought your bloody horse. Don't mean that we can't count his teeth. Now don't you go thinking me and mine don't trust you. We trust you just as much as you trust us." He snorted. "You wanted warriors, didn't you? Well, there they are. Every one worth six o' your black crows or kneelers."

Brynden had to smile. "So long as they save those weapons for our common foe, I am content."

"Gave you my word on it, didn't I? The word of Tormund Giantsbane. Strong as iron, 'tis." He turned and spat.

Amongst the stream of warriors were the fathers of many of Brynden's hostages. Some stared with cold dead eyes as they went by, fingering their sword hilts. Others smiled at him like long-lost kin, though a few of those smiles discomfited Brynden more than any glare. None knelt, but many gave him their oaths. "What Tormund swore, I swear," declared black-haired Brogg, a man of few words. Soren Shieldbreaker bowed his head an inch and growled, "Soren's axe is yours, Brynden Stark, if ever you have need of such." Red-bearded Gerrick Kingsblood brought three daughters. "They will make fine wives, and give their husbands strong sons of royal blood," he boasted. "Like their father, they are descended from Raymun Redbeard, who was King-Beyond-the-Wall."

Blood meant little and less amongst the free folk, Brynden recalled Val telling him. Gerrick's daughters had flame-red hair, hung long and straight. Kissed by fire. "Three princesses, each lovelier than the last," he told their father. "They shall serve as my queen's handmaidens."

Val smiled. "Now there's something I thought I would never have." Her tone was playful. "Not even Dalla could boast of that."

Howd Wanderer swore his oath upon his sword, as nicked and pitted a piece of iron as Brynden had ever seen. Devyn Sealskinner presented him with a sealskin hat, Harle the Huntsman with a bear-claw necklace. The warrior witch Morna removed her weirwood mask just long enough to kiss his gloved hand and swear to be his man or his woman, whichever he preferred. And on and on and on.

As they passed, each warrior stripped off his treasures and tossed them into one of the carts that the stewards had placed before the gate. Amber pendants, golden torques, jeweled daggers, silver brooches set with gem-stones, bracelets, rings, niello cups and golden goblets, warhorns and drinking horns, a green jade comb, a necklace of freshwater pearls … all yielded up and noted down by Bowen Marsh. One man surrendered a shirt of silver scales that had surely been made for some great lord. Another produced a broken sword with three sapphires in the hilt.

And there were queerer things: a toy mammoth made of actual mammoth hair, an ivory phallus, a helm made from a unicorn's head, complete with horn. Brynden hoped it would be enough for Jon and the Night's Watch to buy food supplies in the Free Cities.

After the riders came the men of the Frozen Shore. Brynden watched a dozen of their big bone chariots roll past him one by one, clattering. Half still rolled as before; others had replaced their wheels with runners. They slid across the snowdrifts smoothly, where the wheeled chariots were foundering and sinking.

The dogs that drew the chariots were fearsome beasts, as big as direwolves. Their women were clad in sealskins, some with infants at their breasts. Older children shuffled along behind their mothers and looked up at Brynden with eyes as dark and hard as the stones they clutched. Some of the men wore antlers on their hats, and some wore walrus tusks. The two sorts did not love each other, he soon gathered. A few thin reindeer brought up the rear, with the great dogs snapping at the heels of stragglers.

"Be wary o' that lot, Brynden Stark," Tormund warned him. "A savage folk. The men are bad, the women worse."

On and on the wildlings came, as the sun crept across the bright blue sky. Just before midday, the movement stopped when an oxcart became jammed at a turn inside the tunnel. Brynden and Jon went to have a look themselves. The cart was now wedged solid. The men behind were threatening to hack it apart and butcher the ox where he stood, whilst the driver and his kin swore to kill them if they tried. With the help of Tormund and his son Toregg, they managed to keep the wildlings from coming to blood, but it took the best part of an hour before the way was opened again.

"You need a bigger gate," Tormund complained with a sour look up at the sky, where a few clouds had blown in. "Too bloody slow this way. Like sucking the Milkwater through a reed. Har. Would that I had the Horn of Joramun. I'd give it a nice toot and we'd climb through the rubble."

"Then this alliance would all be for naught." Brynden told him.

By afternoon the sun had gone, and the day turned grey and gusty. "A snow sky," Tormund announced grimly.

Others had seen the same omen in those flat white clouds. It seemed to spur them on to haste. Tempers began to fray. One man was stabbed when he tried to slip in ahead of others who had been hours in the column. Toregg wrenched the knife away from his attacker, dragged both men from the press, and sent them back to the wildling camp to start again.

The clouds had soon began to roll in and Tormund turned and called out to his son Toregg. "Ride back to the camp and get them moving. The sick ones and the weak ones, the slugabeds and cravens, get them on their bloody feet. Set their bloody tents afire if you must. The gate must close at nightfall. Any man not through the Wall by then had best pray the Others get to him afore I do. You hear?"

"I hear." Toregg put his heels into his horse and galloped back down the column.

On and on the wildlings came. Clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon, and warmth fled. There was more shoving at the gate, as men and goats and bullocks jostled each other out of the way. It is more than impatience, Brynden realized. They are afraid. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. They want to put the Wall between them before the night descends.

The wildlings continued to pour through the Wall. Some were moving faster now, hastening across the battleground. Others—the old, the young, the feeble—could scarce move at all. This morning the field had been covered with a thick blanket of old snow, its white crust shining in the sun. Now the field was brown and black and slimy. The passage of the free folk had turned the ground to mud and muck: wooden wheels and horses' hooves, runners of bone and horn and iron, pig trotters, heavy boots, the cloven feet of cows and bullocks, the bare black feet of the Hornfoot folk, all had left their marks. The soft footing slowed the column even more. "You need a bigger gate," Tormund complained again.

By late afternoon the snow was falling steadily, but the river of wildlings had dwindled to a stream. Columns of smoke rose from the trees where their camp had been. "Toregg," Tormund explained. "Burning the dead. Always some who go to sleep and don't wake up. You find them in their tents, them as have tents, curled up and froze. Toregg knows what to do."

The stream was no more than a trickle by the time Toregg emerged from the wood. With him rode a dozen mounted warriors armed with spears and swords. "My rear guard," Tormund said, with a gap-toothed smile. "You crows and kneelers have your scouts and rangers. So do we. Them I left in camp in case we were attacked before we all got out."

"Your best men."

"Or my worst. Every man o' them has killed a crow."

Amongst the riders came one man afoot, with some big beast trotting at his heels. A boar, Brynden saw. A monstrous boar. Twice the size of Shadow and Ghost, the creature was covered with coarse black hair, with tusks as long as a man's arm. Brynden had never seen a boar so huge or ugly. The man beside him was no beauty either; hulking, black-browed, he had a flat nose, heavy jowls dark with stubble, small black close-set eyes.

"Borroq." Tormund turned his head and spat. "A skinchanger." It was not a question. Somehow he knew.

Shadow and Ghost turned their heads. The falling snow had masked the boar's scent, but now the black and white wolf had the smell. They padded out in front of them, teeth bared and snarling.

"No!" Brynden and Jon ordered, trying to calm their wolves down. "Down. Stay. Stay!"

"Boars and wolves," said Tormund. "Best keep those beasts o' yours locked up tonight. I'll see that Borroq does the same with his pig." He glanced up at the darkening sky. "Them's the last, and none too soon. It's going to snow all night, I feel it. Time I had a look at what's on t'other side of all that ice."

"You two go ahead," Jon told Brynden and Tormund. "I mean to be the last one through the ice. I will join you at the feast."

"Feast? Har! Now that's a word I like to hear." The wildling turned his garron toward the Wall and slapped her on the rump. Toregg and the riders followed, dismounting by the gate to lead their horses through. Bowen Marsh stayed long enough to supervise as his stewards pulled the last carts into the tunnel.

"You sure?" Brynden asked his brother.

Jon nodded. "Go on. I've got things from here."

Brynden and Val then headed off toward the Wall with their guards, leaving the Lord Commander and his black brothers behind. It's done, Brynden thought, relieved that it was over. But he knew that the alliance between the north and the free folk was just beginning.

* * *

Dragonstone looked just the same as Davos remembered it, grim and lonely. From the deck of his warship, Davos was not at all surprised to see that the port and town had been taken by the Lannisters and the Redwyne Fleet as they had left but a token force under the command of Ser Rolland Storm when they had sailed north.

Across the sea warhorns boomed, as burning projectiles were launched from the catapults of their ships at the Redwyne Fleet. "Fire!" Davos ordered and his crewmen rushed to obey, loosing another projectile from their catapult at the enemy fleet. He watched as a few of the Redwyne ships were on fire, burning and sinking into Blackwater Bay.

It was well known that Lord Paxter Redwyne owned two hundred warships, and five times as many merchant carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers. During the War of the Five Kings, Lord Manderly had managed to construct a fleet of a hundred and fifty warships. With the twenty-nine ships of Salladhor Saan, Davos hoped that their numbers would be enough to lift the siege and transport the dragonglass back to the Wall. Stannis had decreed that they would split their fleet, with Davos leading the first strike against the Redwyne Fleet.

Unlike Ser Imry Florent, who had led their fleet to their doom, Davos would not do the same with the Manderly Fleet. Amongst the burning wreckage of ships, Davos spotted the Arbor Queen with war galleys flanking her. Roughly the same size as the Fury, Davos could make out her three great burgundy sails, remembering when the Redwyne Fleet and the royal fleet under Stannis's command had fought side by side during Greyjoy's Rebellion.

Beyond the line of warships, Davos searched the waters surrounding Dragonstone. Stannis would wait until Lord Redwyne committed all of his forces into battle before launching his attack. The waiting would be hard, but patience was the key in this battle if they hoped to emerge victorious. This time they were the ones setting a trap for the enemy fleet.

They kept their distance as planned, launching burning projectiles at the Redwyne Fleet, showing no mercy to their foes. Though he was far away to not hear the screams of the dying men, Davos could imagine their cries as they drowned and burned, remembering all the men they had lost in the Blackwater Rush to the wildfire, including four of his sons. Their deaths would not be in vain, Davos told himself.

The Redwyne Fleet were putting up a good fight, that much was for certain. Despite having struck the first blow, the enemy had the numbers and were slowly forming their own battle lines. Davos prayed that Lord Redwyne did not sense a trap as their war ships formed up. Realizing that they had taken the bait, Davos shouted, "battle speed!"

The warhorns repeated his command as the Redwyne Fleet began to charge in their direction. Drums began to beat furiously, oars rose and fell, and they surged forward. Their warships continued to launch burning projectiles at the enemy fleet, urging their foes to pick up speed. Sailing past the wreckage of their surprise attack, as the enemy got closer to them.

Searching the port for signs of any stragglers, Davos was relieved that the port was empty of enemy ships. As their ships drew ever closer, Davos shouted, "Evade!"

The warhorns repeated his command and swerving in the direction of Dragonstone, several warships broke off from the battle line, making their way to the shores, where the Lannister host waited for them. As for Davos, he watched as two galleys came together, a great rending crash echoing across the water.

"Loose," Davos commanded and his bowmen sent a withering rain of shafts across the water. He heard the men across the water scream as the arrows hit their mark.

The ships that had broken off earlier drove toward the shore, sliding out a plank. Archers scrambled into the shallows, holding their bows high over their heads to keep the strings dry. They splashed ashore on the narrow strand beneath the bluffs. The northmen charged at the surprised Lannister army while archers from the walls of Dragonstone emerged and loosed arrows at the lions.

Ahooooooooooooooooooooooooo. The call came from behind him and Davos swerved around as Stannis and his warships joined the fight, no doubt surprising the charging Redwyne Fleet while Davos's ships swerved around to take them from behind.

It was all chaos after that. The Redwyne Fleet was forced to fall back after suffering a heavy loss, leaving the Lannisters stranded on the island.

Dragonstone was theirs again.

* * *

 **Probably the longest chapter you guys will get from me, lol. Sorry I took a while with this update as I just had trouble starting on it and finishing it. Despite how short his section was, Davos's POV was the one I had the most difficulty with as I'm not good with naval tactics and this was my first time writing a naval battle. So forgive me for any amateur mistakes I made with the naval battle.  
**

 **As for Robert Arryn's death, well I believe that without Sansa there to comfort him he would have eventually succumbed to his sickness and died, not to mention that he became more emotional and unstable after his mother's death.**

 **Reviews**

 **Shadowwolf1997: I agree, but I also liked the other names that I was torn between choosing.**

 **albrieII: Brynden's personal guard will be accompanying them as will a few northern lords, not sure which ones yet though.**

 **jean d'arc: Thanks, wasn't certain about Cersei as I was debating to add her POV in the last chapter, but decided it would make sense to have her learn about the Blackfish's sack of Lannisport.**

 **Friendlystranger: Glad you are enjoying it as I knew that the northern lords would still have difficulties accepting their new alliance with the free folk even if their king supported it.**

 **Monarck: Don't forget that Brynden has already made a few names for himself during the War of the Five Kings: The Blackwolf and Demon of the North.**

 **C.E.W: Yeah, Brynden definitely has a difficult road ahead of him with the alliance between the north and the free folk. As for Daenerys, Jon will most likely be the one to obtain a wight as he is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch while Brynden is the King in the North.**

 **FTSharkJumper: I'm glad that you find Brynden interesting and entertaining.**


	23. Dragonsteel

**Enjoy and review**

* * *

Jaime never thought that he would be in a cell again yet here he was, stuck in one with Ser Addam Marbrand for company on Dragonstone. He still couldn't believe how easily he had been defeated by Stannis Baratheon. This was not at all the kind of situation he was expecting to be in when he had arrived on Dragonstone.

First Robb Stark and now Stannis Baratheon. Some Lord Commander he was turning out to be. He remembered the look Ser Rolland Storm gave him when he was thrown into the cell. A one-handed knight who had been captured twice. Once again Jaime cursed Brynden Stark for the hand he had taken and the aid he had provided to Stannis Baratheon, allowing the false king to break the siege of Dragonstone.

They had all believed Stannis Baratheon to be defeated after the Blackwater, but he had only come back stronger after returning south. The Baratheon-Stark alliance could be an even greater threat to their rule if the King in the North turned his attention south. All Brynden Stark had done since returning north was form an alliance with the wildlings and remain at the Wall. Jaime couldn't help but wonder why Brynden Stark had not left the north after his return from the Iron Islands.

He knew Stark's bastard brother was at the Wall as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but doubted that was the reason the King in the North remained on the Wall with his army. Stark could have used their recent defeats to his advantage and wiped out their remaining forces in the south yet had done nothing. It seemed to Jaime that the Blackwolf was more focused in the north than he was with the south.

Brynden Stark was certainly a better ruler than the Young Wolf had been, that much Jaime was certain of. His brother had won the war on the battlefield and lost it in a bedchamber whilst the Blackwolf had learned from his brother's mistakes and secured their kingdom from their enemies. Jaime didn't want to know what would happen to the westerlands if Brynden Stark decided to do the same thing he had done to the Iron Islands.

Had Tywin Lannister still been alive, Jaime wondered how his lord father would have dealt with Brynden Stark and Stannis Baratheon. The two remaining kings that had survived the war were becoming more of a threat than the others who had crowned themselves king. Even with their recent defeats, the Tyrells were their only hope if they hoped to win this war.

They still had the numbers, but Jaime knew that such trivial matters would not matter to men like Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark. He had learned that lesson in the Whispering Woods against the Young Wolf and now against Stannis Baratheon. Jaime doubted he would live long anyway to learn from his mistakes as he had no doubt that Stannis Baratheon planned to burn him alive.

The door to his cell swung open and Jaime looked up as a slight man entered, his low birth written plain upon a common face. He had thin shoulders and wore a leather glove on his maimed hand. Jaime knew at once that this man was Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight. "Ser Davos Seaworth or is it Lord Seaworth now? Has Stannis finally decided to have me burned alive?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that he did not?" Davos asked him.

"No, I would not," Jaime replied. Only a fool would think otherwise and Jaime was no fool.

"If the Red Woman were here, it would be true, but she is not. His Grace has decided to leave your fate in the hands of Brynden Stark for helping us take back Dragonstone."

"No doubt Stark will be pleased to see me again." Jaime could already imagine the pleased look on Stark's face when he took his head. He doubted that the Blackwolf would force him to take the black. Jaime would rather die with a sword in hand than be forced to serve the remainder of his days on the Wall and freeze to death in the north.

"What about the rest of us?" Ser Addam asked.

"The Night's Watch could always use more men like you at the Wall." Davos replied.

"What is the point in the Night's Watch anymore if all of the wildlings are behind the Wall?" Jaime asked.

Jaime could care less about what happened at the Wall, but even he knew that the Night's Watch served to defend the Wall against the wildling savages. Not to mention Grumkins and Snarks. With the new alliance between the north and the wildlings, Jaime couldn't see what purpose the Night's Watch served now.

"The wildlings are not the true threat beyond the Wall," Davos told him before taking his leave.

* * *

Your ranging to Hardhome is doomed to fail. Lady Melisandre's words echoed in Jon's mind as his men got ready to set sail from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Lord Manderly had come through with Brynden's request and had sent seven ships from White Harbor, bringing their fleet to a total of eleven ships. Hopefully they would be enough to bring all of the wildlings at Hardhome across the Wall.

From what Tormund had told them, he estimated their numbers to be half of what Mance's host was before they attacked the Wall. He could only hope they weren't too late and they could be saved. Yet Lady Melisandre's words continued to haunt him, wondering if her words were true. Jon only wished that his brother did not have to come with them, but Brynden insisted he had no choice, believing the wildlings would only accept their offer if they saw the King in the North, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and the Lord Commander together, presenting the wildlings with their offer.

"This is a fool's errand, Lord Commander," Cotter Pyke told him as Brynden approached them with Shadow trailing behind him.

"The Night's Watch are the shield that guards the realms of men, and whether we like it or not, the wildlings are now our responsibility as well," Jon replied.

Jon couldn't help but wonder how Cotter Pyke felt about working alongside Brynden for he was the man who had put all of his people to the sword. He only hoped the man was like Lord Commander Hoare and would maintain neutrality during their journey beyond the Wall.

"As you say," Cotter took his leave, making his way over to his ship, the Talon.

"Seems I'm not the only one dealing with opposition from my men," Brynden said as he stopped in front of Jon, clad in his Valyrian Steel armor with Ice strapped across his back.

"Is it that easy to tell?" Jon asked, looking at some of his black brothers board a ship.

Brynden nodded, frowning. "Even my own men are still not pleased working alongside wildlings. Val was right when she said that our marriage would not be enough to bridge an alliance between the north and her people."

"Once they see the true threat beyond the Wall they will have to learn to work together," Jon said.

"You truly believe that this alliance can work if they saw the Others were real?"

"I have to. I saw a wight with my own eyes and watched it die." Jon was still haunted by the blue-eyed corpse that had tried to kill him and Lord Commander Mormont. "We cannot hope to defeat this enemy on our own."

"Then let us hope that Stannis comes through on his end. As much as I hate to admit it, he is our only ally for the wars to come."

"Stannis is not the only one out there." Jon pointed out.

"Wildlings are one thing, but Lannisters, never. They are the reason why we went to war. They are responsible for the deaths of my men, of Robb, and Father." Brynden snapped, balling his hands into fists. "The knights of the Vale and Stannis are the only allies I need for the wars to come."

"I do not like the idea either, but we need more men. Who else would you have in mind if not the Lannisters?"

"We will speak no more about this matter, Lord Commander." Brynden swiftly took off, heading for his ship.

Jon wanted to call out to his brother, but knew that Brynden would not listen to him once he got angry. He would need to wait until his brother had cooled down before Jon could broach the subject to him again. Even with their growing alliance, Jon had a feeling that it would not be enough to stop the Others and their army.

His brother's army was stretched thin as it was, with the Blackfish leading a northern force in the westerlands, Ser Helman Tallhart holding Moat Cailin, the Manderly fleet attacking Dragonstone, and his brother leading a force beyond the Wall. If the Others decided to attack, Jon doubted they would be able to last very long against them.

"Looks like you and your brother didn't come to an agreement."

Jon looked behind him as Tormund approached, stopping beside him. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"What did you say to piss him off?"

"I suggested he form an alliance with his enemies," Jon replied. Even he did not like the idea of fighting alongside Lannisters, but with their alliance with the Tyrells and the Freys, the Iron Throne controlled one of the biggest forces in the south, and they needed all the men they could get for the coming threat.

"He did it with us. What is so different this time?"

"They are the reason why the north went to war and declared their independence," Jon replied.

Though there was bad blood between the north and the wildlings, Jon knew that it was worse with the Lannisters, with the scars from the war still fresh in their minds. Then there was the red wedding, where many northerners had lost their friends and family in the slaughter.

"Mayhaps Val could convince your brother, har," Tormund chuckled.

"It's not that simple. Besides, Brynden is still not pleased with Val accompanying us beyond the Wall."

Brynden had tried in vain to convince Val to stay behind at Castle Black, but the wildling queen refused to obey him. Jon knew that it was a futile attempt, but his brother did not know that.

"Val will do what she wants. She is not at all like those southron ladies your brother is used to dealing with, Jon Snow."

"I think he's starting to realize that."

Shouts could be heard from the docks as wildlings, black brothers, and northmen alike boarded the ships. A light snow had begun to fall and Jon hoped they would be able to make it in time to rescue the wildlings at Hardhome.

"Time we were on our way," Tormund muttered.

"Aye."

Then he would see if Lady Melisandre's words were true or not.

* * *

"How many did we lose?"

"Too many, Your Grace," Aurane Waters replied, kneeling before her in the throne room.

Cersei seethed in silence, cursing Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark for making a fool of her. Jaime had failed her, falling once again to another attacker during a siege. She would make Stark and Baratheon pay dearly for inflicting such a loss upon her. They were proving to be more troublesome than she had believed.

"What of Ser Jaime? Do you know what happened to the Lord Commander?"

"As we were fleeing, Ser Jaime's forces were overrun on the beachhead by Baratheon forces. We could not make it in time to save them, Your Grace."

"And our fleet?"

Jaime and Aurane Waters had set sail for Dragonstone with over two thousand men, her newly built dromonds, and the Redwyne fleet. Their numbers should have been more than enough to overwhelm what remained of Stannis's garrison at Dragonstone. Just like his liege lord, Redwyne proved to be just as incompetent as the Fat Flower was. How could her father ever have believed they needed the Tyrells to help end the war?

"We lost just as many ships as we did men," Aurane replied. "Five of our dromonds were captured while the Redwyne fleet was decimated and forced to retreat. Lord Redwyne reports only a hundred of his warships remain."

"What about this Manderly fleet?"

Wyman Manderly was not at all the kind of fool they had been led to believe if he had managed to construct a fleet on par with the Redwynes. The fat northerner would also pay for his transgressions against the Iron Throne.

"They suffered minor losses, Your Grace."

"These northmen are even more fearsome than before," Pycelle spoke up. She had almost forgotten that the old fool was at court with them. The maester rarely did anything but sleep these days. Cersei wouldn't be surprised if he died without any of them realizing it.

"No doubt they still blame us for the red wedding," Cersei muttered.

The younger Stark was proving to be an even greater threat than that of Robb Stark. She would have to find some way to deal with him and soon. Hopefully the northern lords would turn on him because of his recent alliance with the wildlings. From what Qyburn had told her, the northmen and Night's Watch were not at all pleased with the recent actions of their King and Lord Commander.

Stark was a fool to take a wildling woman as his wife instead of a daughter from one of his bannermen. Just like his brother, Stark would also lose his kingdom in a bedchamber.

Then there was Jon Snow, the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The boy was proving to be even more traitorous like Lord Eddard.

"It is the Freys they should be blaming, not us," Orton Merryweather pointed out.

Only a fool would believe the Freys capable of taking such drastic actions on their own without any incentive. Roose Bolton would have been rewarded as well had he not decided to back out of the deal. That had cost the man his life and that of his House. Were he still alive, Lord Bolton would be the one dealing with Stark while she could focus all of her attention on Stannis.

Instead she was left alone to clean up the mess her father had failed to do before his untimely demise. Now that Jaime was captured once again, Cersei needed to deal with her enemies as quickly as possible to ensure her reign and Tommen's was secure.

"What news is there of the west?"

Ser Loras stepped forward, kneeling before he spoke. She would need to find some way to get rid of his presence before this day was done. "The Blackfish continues to plunder the westerlands unopposed, Your Grace."

One setback after another. Were all the men around her so incompetent that she would have to do everything herself? "And your brothers. I recall you telling me they would be able to muster ten thousand men within a fortnight."

"They are marching to the Golden Tooth as we speak, Your Grace."

"Good. Let us hope they can do what Ser Daven could not."

And once the Blackfish was dealt with that would be one less enemy she would have to worry about.

* * *

Thousands of tents sprawled across the shorelines could be seen in the distance along with fires burning inside cave mouths along a great grey cliff. Warhorns could be heard moaning as wildlings emerged from their tents to see what all the commotion was about. The only defense the wildlings seemed to have was a massive wooden wall, stretching from the cliff towards the other side of the peninsula. It was still hard for Brynden to believe they had all come here to the ruins of Hardhome heeding the words of some woods witch.

They were all fools to come here, but they were his people now, whether they liked it or not, and it was Brynden's duty to see them south and behind the Wall. He only hoped Mance and Tormund would be able to keep the wildlings in line once they boarded the ships.

It was still strange for Brynden to work alongside the King-beyond-the-Wall, but then again these were strange times when northmen, black brothers, and wildlings alike were working together against their common foe. Even if Brynden had his doubts still about the Others and their existence. Despite his recent fight with Jon, Brynden trusted his brother and knew he would not lie about such a thing.

"The boats are ready, Your Grace," Smalljon Umber announced.

"Then let's get this over with," Brynden muttered, turning around and headed across the deck to where the boats were being lowered into the water. He frowned when he saw Val waiting for him, wearing a large bearskin cloak, and a long bone knife strapped to her hip. "You don't need to come with us."

Val rolled her eyes. "I can take care of my self, Your Grace."

"Aye you can, but you are a queen now, not a woman of the free folk anymore," Brynden pointed out.

They have had this argument many times during their journey north of the Wall that Brynden had grown tired of it, but he did not wish to see Val put herself in danger, no matter how much she believed in her own capabilities. Sooner or later, Val needed to understand the role she was given as the Queen of the North, just as Brynden had when he had succeeded Robb as King in the North.

"You still have much to learn, Brynden Stark," Val smirked before getting onboard one of the boats.

Shadow started to pad forward but Brynden stopped the wolf from jumping in. "Not this time boy." He got into the boat along with some of his guards while Greatjon came over to see him off. "Lord Umber, I leave you in command of the fleet while we are away."

"I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Your Grace," Greatjon grumbled.

"So do I." Brynden nodded and they were slowly lowered into the water before making their way to the shorelines.

There were thousands of wildlings gathered about along the shore, watching them make it across the harbor. Brynden was grateful that none of them had loosed any arrows at them as they made it ashore.

Jon, Mance, and Tormund joined Brynden and Val as they disembarked and made their way over to where the wildlings were gathered. A scrawny old woman came forward followed by a dour looking warrior, clad in bronze with a bronze longsword strapped to his belt. Brynden recognized the dour warrior as a Thenn, remembering the young Magnar of Thenn, Sigorn.

"Let me handle this," Mance told Brynden, stepping forward to greet the wildlings with Tormund by his side.

"Mance, and here I thought you were dead," the dour Thenn greeted.

"Not yet," Mance replied.

"What are you doing here with crows and kneelers?"

"They are our salvation," the old woman interrupted.

This time it was Jon who stepped forward. "Your people have been granted safe passage through the Wall."

"And why is that?" The Thenn asked.

"Because we are no longer enemies," Brynden replied, standing beside Mance and Jon. "My name is Brynden Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell. It is by my decree and the terms of our alliance that we are here."

"Why should we trust the words of a Stark?" A beautiful spearwife, with long dark hair and grey eyes, asked.

"Because he understands that he needs us, just as much as we need him," Mance replied. "You don't need to bend your knee for him or call him your king, only that you answer his summons when our true enemy comes."

"Why should we? He was one of the southron kings that cut our army into pieces," another wildling chieftain pointed out and his fellow brethren nodded their heads in agreement.

"I was only defending my kingdom," Brynden snapped. Any other king would have done the same, even if it meant slaughtering thousands to drive their enemies away.

"So why the sudden change of heart? First you defend your Wall against us and now you're letting us through it? Smells more like a trap and that this lot with you are nothing more than traitors." The dour Thenn growled.

"You all know what's out there, what's coming for us," Mance said. "We can't hope to stand against them alone."

"None of us here likes each other and that's understandable," Brynden added. "For centuries our people have been fighting each other with no end in sight, but that ends today. Desperate times call for desperate measures and we all need to learn to band together if we hope to beat the white walkers."

The wildling spearwife scoffed. "Beat the white walkers? Run from them maybe."

"The white walkers can be defeated." Jon stepped forward, taking a dagger from his belt and handing it over to the wildlings. "A man of the Night's Watch slew a white walker with that dagger. It is dragonglass, what the maesters call obsidian."

"You saw this?" The Thenn asked.

"No, but I trust the man," Jon replied.

"As we speak, Stannis Baratheon is in the south, mining the obsidian and shipping them north." Brynden informed them. "Your best chance for survival is to come with us south of the Wall."

The wildlings looked at each other, murmuring to one another while the dragonglass dagger was passed around. Brynden wished they could have this meeting inside, but none of the wildlings seemed interested in letting them into the camp. At least with Tormund, the wildlings had a leader Brynden could deal with, but these wildlings didn't seem to have a leader of their own. They also didn't seem to trust the words of their king, even with Mance trying to convince them of their alliance.

So much for this being a simple rescue. Of course, things were never simple when dealing with wildlings, Brynden mused, glancing at Val.

"Thousands of our people are already settled behind the Wall," Val stepped in. "Stark will remain true to his word, you have my word."

"And why is that?" The spearwife asked.

"Because I am his Queen," Val replied, causing the wildlings to whisper amongst themselves once more.

"It's true," Brynden added. "To cement our alliance I have taken one of your own as my wife and queen, as well as sparing the life of your own king, Mance Rayder."

"The Long Night is coming and the dead come with it," Jon said. "Only together do we have a chance to stop them."

"What say you, Mance? Do you believe this is the way?" One of the chieftains asked.

"I do," Mance nodded.

"I'm with Mance. We came here anyways looking for salvation and it seems that they are it." Another chieftain stepped in. Several others agreed with him, nodding their heads.

"We are with you, Stark," the old woman added.

Brynden nodded, grateful that it didn't take long for them to accept. He didn't want to be out here any longer than he had to. He made his way over to Val and pulled her aside as the chieftains headed off to inform their people of the news. "I want you on one of the first boats back to the fleet," Brynden told her.

Val gave him a playful smile as if to mock him. "If my king insists."

A while later, wildlings were boarding the boats, making their way across the harbor to the fleet while Brynden, Jon, Mance, and their men kept order amongst their ranks. It was a strange sight to behold as black brothers and northmen helped wildlings onto the boat. Not for the first time, Brynden couldn't help but wonder if eleven ships were enough for fifty thousand wildlings, including their own men.

Three hundred men they had brought with them, with Brynden, Jon, and Mance bringing a hundred men each. They should have brought more ships, but the bulk of the Manderly fleet had already set sail for Dragonstone, leaving only a few ships for Lord Manderly to spare, with the Night's Watch only able to deploy a small number of ships to the fleet. He wondered if they would have enough time to make several trips.

For now though, Brynden had given orders to let only the young ones, women, and fighting men onboard first. The old ones would only slow them down and they would need all the able bodies they could get, even if it meant leaving people behind. There were always sacrifices in war as Brynden had learned on the Green Fork.

He had sacrificed a few to save the many while Brynden had accomplished his goal of distracting Lord Tywin while Robb had lifted the siege of Riverrun. The battle felt like ages ago for Brynden back when he was just the second son, not a prince or a king. Now look at him, the King in the North and the first Stark of Winterfell to allow wildlings through the Wall. It should have been Father or Robb dealing with this matter, not him, but they were gone now, leaving him alone to defend their House against their enemies.

"You have a good heart, Brynden Stark," Mance told him, approaching him from the side. "You have my thanks for what you have done for my people."

"It is not needed. They became my people and responsibility the moment I agreed to the alliance and took Val as my queen."

Suddenly a heavy snow had begun to fall and the horns blew; ahooo ahooo ahooooooooooooooooooo, from the wooden wall. They had set up sentries along the wall, consisting of black brothers and wildlings from Tormund's group to keep the flow of wildlings in line while they passed through the gates.

A second blast came and Brynden looked at Mance. "More wildlings?" He asked, hoping that were true.

Mance's face hardened when he heard the screams in the distance coming from the wall. "No."

A third blast and Brynden watched as a cloud of snow fell down from the grey cliff onto the wildling camp below it. That was no natural storm, Brynden realized, as black brothers and wildlings drew their swords and spears and running toward the wall.

"Tormund, with me!" Mance shouted, drawing his sword and rushing off with Tormund roaring.

"Never thought I'd get another order from you," Tormund shouted, following the wildling king into battle.

"Your Grace!" Harrion shouted, making his way toward him through the panicking crowd rushing for the boats.

"Gather our men and join me at the wall!" Brynden ordered, drawing Ice and making his way to where the fighting was. He may be a king, but it was not in Brynden's nature to run away from a battle.

"Here they come," he heard a wildling say as Brynden spotted Jon amongst his black brothers.

"Use fire arrows," another wildling shouted.

"Jon," Brynden called out, making his way over to his brother. Arrows whispered over head, hitting their marks while the wind continued to howl about them.

"You shouldn't be here," Jon told him.

"And neither should you," Brynden shot back. "Mance can hold the wall, we need to bring order back at the shorelines."

"White walker!"

Brynden and Jon turned around, and to his disbelief found himself staring at an Other, pale as ice, gaunt and hard as old bones. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the snow. In its hand was a longsword like none that Brynden had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing as two black brothers charged at the thing, only to have their swords shatter upon contact with its blade before being cut down with ease. To his horror, Brynden watched as Jon charged at the Other, swinging his sword at the monster. To his surprise, the sword did not shatter when it struck against the pale sword.

"Jon!" Brynden cried out, ignoring the battle behind him as he joined his brother against the Other, swinging Ice at his foe. His instincts took over, with Brynden parrying while Jon struck out only for the Other to parry their attacks with ease.

The Other moved like it was the wind, gracefully dodging while striking precise hits against their blades, searching for an opening. Stark and Snow struck as one, only to be pushed back and forced onto the defensive. No amount of training had prepared them for this.

Brynden struggled to keep his foe at bay while Jon tried running his blade through the Other. Snow fell heavily around them, hindering their movement. Suddenly Ice was knocked from his grasp and Brynden raised his arm to shield himself, unsheathing the dagger from his belt and shoving it into its leg. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that caused Brynden to muffle his ears.

All about its body, the Other's armor cracked until finally it shattered into pieces, leaving Brynden and Jon stunned from what had just happened.

Dragonsteel, Brynden remembered, looking down at the dagger, recalling the conversation he and Jon had with Samwell Tarly about the weakness of the Others. "The armor of the Others is proof against most ordinary blades, if the tales can be believed," Sam had told them. , "and their own swords are so cold they shatter steel. Fire will dismay them, though, and they are vulnerable to obsidian. I found one account of the Long Night that spoke of the last hero slaying Others with a blade of dragonsteel. Supposedly they could not stand against it."

It made sense, Brynden thought, reaching down and picking up the dagger along with Ice. Valyrian steel was Dragonsteel.

Jon made his way over to Brynden, breathing heavily. "Are you alright?"

"I'm hoping that this is all just a dream," Brynden replied. The Others were unlike any other foe he had faced before and did not want to go through that again.

"Fall back!"

The wall began to creak and groan, causing Brynden and Jon to stare in dismay as a pile of bodies with blue eyes tore through the wall, overwhelming their position.

"To the boats!" Jon ordered and without seeing if they heard the order, began making a mad dash back to the shorelines.

It was a massacre on the way to the boats. Piles of bodies decorated the ground while the few that lived struggled against their attackers. "Cast now," Brynden ordered, crossing the beach and hopping into the boat with Jon following in right after him.

Turning around, Brynden could only watch in horror and dismay as those that were left behind were slaughtered by dead men. The screams of the living were silenced after a while. Then just as quickly as they had fallen, the fallen rose, joining the ranks of the dead, with thousands of blue eyes staring back at him.

Breathing heavily, it was then that Brynden realized that they could not possibly hope to defeat this foe alone.

* * *

 **Hey guys, sorry for not updating in a while, this story just hasn't been a priority for me and I lost interest in it for a while, being distracted and all that. If any of the characters seem OOC in this chapter, just blame it on me not having worked on it for over three months. These chapters kill me sometimes when I just work on it for one story and I need a break from it to clear my head.  
**

 **Next chapter will probably be the last one for book four and then it will be on to book five. As for how long the next chapter will take, no idea, I'm pretty burnt out of ASOIAF at the moment, you guys are lucky I managed to finish this chapter before the end of this year.**

 **No promises, but I'll try to finish and upload the next chapter for Christmas.**

 **Until then, not sure if I should work on my other projects or not. Most likely I'll be distraced by playing video games and all that, lol.**

 **Reviews**

 **FractiousDay: Yeah, one of the reasons why I didn't like the chapter, because of how cannon it was, but it will probably be the last of cannon material I will be using as we are nearing the end of the fourth book.**

 **Freakdogsflare: You'll just have to wait and see.**

 **C.E.W: Mance Rayder is also alive, as part of Val's agreement to become Brynden's wife.**

 **Blaze1992: Not everyone.**

 **Stark (guest): Yes, Brynden will legitimize Lyanna.**


	24. The Wolf and the Falcon

**Back from the dead bitches, lol. It's been two years since I've updated this story and I know a lot of you have been asking for an update. And with the last season airing today, I figured why not, as I have some free time now.**

 **Unfortunately I wasn't able to complete the Dance with Dragons story line** **, but I at least have two more chapters completed and will upload them a week at a time because I want to pace myself this time in case I hit another writer's block or life gets in the way again. Though don't expect updates to be as frequent later on as I'll update whenever I can and when I have the time.  
**

 **This will also be the only story that I plan on focusing on for now, despite my interests writing for other fandoms, but I plan on finishing this story first since we're getting close to the end of Brynden Stark's journey, only two more books to go.**

 **It's been a while since I've touched this story, I know and I skimmed through the previous chapters to make sure there weren't any continuity errors in this one. I did come back though and make some last minute changes to this chapter to make it flow a bit better, which means that I will also be making some changes to the other chapters I finished. The next few chapters will definitely be better though hopefully since I'm getting a feel for the story again.**

 **Anyways, hope you all enjoy the long overdue chapter 24.**

* * *

Lady Melisandre's warning about their doomed ranging had turned out to be true. Just as Lord Commander Mormont had lost against the Others at the Fist of the First Men, Jon and Brynden had lost against them at Hardhome. It was a failure in Jon's mind. They had sailed for Hardhome to rescue all of the wildlings there, only to return with twenty thousand of them while losing Mance in the first wave the Others had launched against them.

Not even Tormund could figure out why the Others would attack them at such full strength during the day. Jon remembered what Tormund had told him and Brynden on the day they had let the wildlings through the Wall. "They won't come out by day, not when that old sun's shining, but don't think that means they went away. Shadows never go away. Might be you don't see them, but they're always clinging to your heels." So much for the Others not attacking while the sun was up.

The only useful information they had managed to gather at Hardhome was that Valyrian steel could also kill the Others and that when one of them died, the wights they had resurrected would perish as well. It was only thanks to the survivors that Jon had learned about the wights falling for he was too busy focused on the Other that had almost killed his brother were it not for his Valyrian steel armor. None of that in Jon's mind was worth the loss of thirty thousand wildlings and that of Mance's. Now they had thirty thousand more wights to deal with in the army of the Others.

When the time came to face the Others, Jon wondered if their alliance would be able to stand a chance against them. It was only a matter of time now before the Others decided to attack the Wall and they all would need to be ready to stop them.

"Even when I had my doubts about their existence, you were right the entire time about them."

Jon looked up as Brynden entered the room, with an exhausted look on his face. "You have to see them to believe it," Jon said, remembering all too well of his first encounter with a wight in Lord Commander Mormont's chambers. "The Long Night is coming and the Others will soon be upon us."

"And we can't hope to beat them alone, not after what I had just witnessed." Brynden sighed, sitting down on a chair in front of Jon's desk.

"We need more allies," Jon told his brother. "Stannis and the Knights of the Vale won't be enough to stop them when they come."

They were right back at the same conversation they had at Eastwatch before sailing for Hardhome, only this time Brynden knew what was out there and what was coming for them. Jon knew how much Brynden despised the Lannisters and the south for what happened during the War of the Five Kings, but they needed to put their differences aside if they hoped to survive the coming storm.

"You and I both know the Lannisters will never join us after everything that has happened. I doubt the river lords will lend their aid either after I had abandoned them. Not to mention that Dorne and the Tyrells are sworn to the Iron Throne. You can forget about the Ironborn as well considering what had happened to them."

Jon frowned, knowing all too well what Brynden meant. He still couldn't believe that the brother he had grown up with was capable of such an atrocity. That was something he would expect a man like Tywin Lannister would be able to do.

"They didn't deserve that fate. No one deserves that," Jon muttered.

Brynden scoffed. "You are still naïve sometimes, Jon. If the Ironborn had been allowed to live they would have continued their ways of plundering and raiding until another Balon Greyjoy or Euron appeared, bringing even more devastation and death to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

"What of Lyanna? She has the blood of the Ironborn flowing through her veins," Jon pointed out.

"My daughter may have the blood of an Ironborn, but she has and always will be a Stark, a woman of the north." Brynden frowned.

Jon sighed, realizing that his brother would never change his mind once he was set on something. "So, how do you plan on dealing with the looming threat of the Others?"

"I plan on evacuating all those who cannot fight to the Iron Islands. That way we can at least lower the casualties of the living should they manage to breach the Wall."

"I take it you plan to use the Winter Fleet to ferry them across."

"Of course. I sent a raven to the Blackfish, ordering him to return to the north. From what I've heard from the south it would seem that the Lannisters took the bait and are sending a large force to the westerlands as we speak."

Jon smiled. "And should Stannis decide to rally more men in the south it will take some time for the enemy to return from the westerlands."

Brynden drummed his fingers on Jon's desk. "Then there's the matter with the riverlands. I have no doubt that the river lords are not pleased with being under Lannister rule, but whether they decide to join Stannis or not depends on if they still blame me for abandoning them to the lions."

"You had no choice, you said so yourself. You even gave them a chance to join you in the north when you decided to flee. Had you decided to stay you would have been surrounded on all sides and met the same fate as Robb."

"You're right, but it still doesn't make me feel any better about it. I gave up half of the kingdom Robb fought for in order to defend our home. Those river lords most likely call me the King who Ran by now," Brynden chuckled.

"It was a difficult situation either way. In my eyes you made the right decision and I believe your bannermen see it that way as well."

"In the end I will have to live with the decisions I have made for the rest of my life," Brynden sighed. He then stood up and made his way out of the chambers before stopping and looking over his shoulder. "You should get some rest, Jon. You and I both deserve some after that whole ordeal."

"Easier said than done."

Yet when Jon drifted off to sleep that night, all he dreamt about were an army of blue eyes staring at him, marching on the Wall while wolves howled into the night.

* * *

Sansa still couldn't believe this was real. As she gazed at the mirror, admiring her new wedding gown. The smallclothes were all silk, but the gown itself was ivory samite and cloth-of-silver, and lined with silvery satin. The points of the long dagged sleeves almost touched the ground when she lowered her arms. And it was a woman's gown, not a little girl's, there was no doubt of that. The bodice was slashed in front almost to her belly, the deep vee covered over with a panel of ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey. The skirts were long and full, the waist so tight that Sansa had to hold her breath as the seamstress laced her into it.

"If only your brother were here to see how beautiful you look," her mother said when she was dressed.

"Will I be able to see him again after I am wed?" Sansa asked her mother, knowing that it was thanks to Brynden that was she free from the Lannisters and Joffrey.

"Of course." Her mother smiled. "We will be sailing for White Harbor so that your husband can swear fealty to your brother."

"I still can't believe this is happening."

A week had passed since Robert Arryn had passed and after the Lords Declarant had thrown Littlefinger into the Sky Cells, they had decided to proceed with the wedding after Ser Harrold Hardyng had ascended as Lord Harrold Arryn, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Many lords of the Vale had arrived at the Eyrie for the wedding and to swear fealty to their new lord.

"If only your father and Robb were here, they would be so proud of you to see how you have grown. Soon you will be the Lady of the Eyrie and the envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, and a few from the riverlands and the Reach as well."

"I miss them," Sansa muttered, remembering the last moment she had shared with her father before his execution, arguing with him. She still couldn't bring herself to tell her mother that she had gone to the queen that day, begging her to let her stay in King's Landing so that she could be with Joffrey.

After the wedding she would tell her, Sansa promised to herself, as she was done keeping secrets from her family. Soon she would be home again and safe, away from the Lannisters. Her family would surely forgive her for her mistake. She was still only just a child back then after all, and she had paid for it as a hostage of the Iron Throne, enduring Joffrey's torments and beatings until Brynden had secured her release.

She would never betray her family or house to anyone ever again.

"As do I. But enough about that, we don't want to sour your mood. You should be happy on your wedding day." Her mother smiled.

Sansa pushed her thoughts of King's Landing and the Lannisters aside, and smiled, following her mother as she made her way over to the door and opened it, revealing Brienne of Tarth standing guard outside her chambers, wearing a doublet instead of a dress. "My lady," Brienne bowed when she noticed them.

Making their way down the hallway, Sansa started to get nervous as they made their way to the Sept. While traditionally it would have been either her father or brother to present her to her husband, her mother had taken their place for the wedding. When they entered the sept, Sansa blushed when she saw her soon to be husband, forgetting all about her troubles that plagued her mind.

Harrold looked every inch a lord; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. For the wedding he wore a doublet of cream and blue, blazoned with the arms of Hardyng and Waynwood displayed in the first and third quarters, but in the second and fourth quarters he bore the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn, sky blue and cream.

Even with the knowledge of the bastards he had fathered, Sansa found him more appealing than Joffrey and knew that he was a better man than Joffrey when Harrold had told her the truth about his bastards when she had asked him. All that she wanted was a husband who would care for her and not care about her name. She just hoped that she was right about him this time and he would treat her the same way father treated mother.

Waiting for them at the marriage altar was the Septon, standing between the Mother and the Father to join their lives together. As they made their way to the altar, Sansa spotted Lord Yohn Royce and the rest of the Lords Declarant, along with a few northern lords who had accompanied them to the Vale.

The ceremony passed as in a dream. The seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises exchanged. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks.

Her mother tenderly removed her maiden cloak, while Harrold accepted the bride's cloak from Lady Anya Waynwood. Harrold then approached Sansa and draped her in the sky blue and cream and leaned close to fasten it at her throat.

"With this kiss I pledge my love!" Harrold declared, and Sansa echoed his words before Harrold pulled her in close and kissed her long and deep.

The lords of the Vale cheered while the Septon declared Harrold of the House of Arryn and Sansa of House Stark to be one flesh, one heart, one soul.

* * *

"Ser Gilbert Farring continues to hold Storm's End against the Tyrell forces led by Mace Tyrell."

Mace Tyrell had raised a city of tents outside Storm's End and had two dozen mangonels flinging stones against the castle's massive walls, thus far to small effect. Though Storm's End remained loyal to King Stannis's cause, Davos knew that it was only a matter of time before the Lannisters regained full control over the south. He doubted Brynden Stark the Blackwolf would be interested in lending his fleet against the Tyrell forces when his sole focus was on the Wall and the growing threat of the Others.

The Manderly fleet's only purpose at Dragonstone was to lift the siege and transport the dragonglass they mined back to the Wall. They had little interest in anything else but obeying their king's command, much to King Stannis's annoyance. Of their fleet, they only had twenty-five ships that belonged to Salladhor Saan, with the addition of the five dromonds they had acquired from the Lannister fleet sent to retake Dragonstone. They needed more men and ships if they ever hoped to win the war and seat King Stannis, but the threat beyond the Wall came first.

Even with the support of the Iron Bank, they had heard nothing from Ser Justin Massey, who had sailed for Braavos with their envoy, Tycho Nestoris. Davos could only hope that Ser Justin would be able to accomplish the task the king had given him. They needed to win more allies in the Seven Kingdoms if they hoped to prevail against the enemy beyond the Wall.

"The fat flower will be there for sometime if it ends up like the last siege during Robert's Rebellion," King Stannis snorted, standing behind a massive slab of wood carved and painted in the shape of Westeros as it had been in the time of Aegon the Conqueror. An iron brazier stood beside the king, its coals glowing a ruddy orange. Four tall pointed windows looked out to north, south, east, and west.

On the map Stannis had the lion of Lannister placed on King's Landing, the Tyrell flower and the crowned stag at Storm's End, the direwolf of Stark at Winterfell, the falcon at the Eyrie, the Sun of Martell in Dorne, the Twins of the Freys at the Twins, and the crowned stag on Dragonstone.

"That may be so, Your Grace, but the Lannisters have most of the south under their control already," Davos pointed out. "It is only a matter of time before Storm's End falls."

The Freys of the Crossing now ruled the riverlands as the Lords Paramount of the Trident, with many of the river lords welcomed back into the king's peace. After the Red Wedding however, Davos doubted that many of the river lords were pleased with their new overlords. Only a few river lords loyal to the Starks and Tullys had gone north after the Blackwolf had succeeded the Young Wolf as the King in the North.

Not to mention the storm lords who had gone over to Stannis after Renly's death only to bend the knee to the Lannisters when the Battle of the Blackwater was lost. Only a few in the stormlands remained loyal to Stannis including Storm's End.

"If the Stark boy had the sense of his father, I would be sitting on the Iron Throne by now with all my enemies defeated, and together we would destroy the ice demons, but the boy has made it clear that he will never bend the knee," Stannis muttered.

"After what happened to his lord father and brother, can you blame him, Your Grace?" Davos asked.

"His reasons do not matter to me, he is an usurper like his brother and should have bent the knee when I helped him defend the Wall against the wildlings. I did not help defend the north only to accept a broken kingdom." King Stannis gritted his teeth, looking down at the map of Westeros. "Now that Stark has made an alliance with the Vale and the wildlings he will become an even greater threat to my rule than he already is."

His king took a piece off the map that was shaped like a falcon and placed it next to the direwolf in the north.

"The true threat is beyond the Wall," Davos couldn't help but remind his king. "Better the knights of the Vale are allied with the Starks than with the Lannisters."

"And more enemies to deal with once I have the Iron Throne and the threat beyond the Wall is dealt with."

"There is always the chance we can rally the river lords to our cause, Your Grace. I know for certain that many of them are not content with Lannister rule and desire vengeance for the red wedding."

King Stannis scoffed. "After all of the losses they have suffered the most these river lords could raise would be at least 10,000 men. Not to mention they would dare not raise a sword with Edmure Tully still a prisoner to the Freys, but he is a dead man either way and with the Tullys no longer in power the river lords who resent the Freys will look to someone else to follow."

"It is still better than none at all," Davos pointed out.

"True, but if Ser Justin comes through on his end then there will be no need to rally the river lords to our cause. However, thanks to the Blackfish raiding in the westerlands there are fewer enemies to deal with in the south. No doubt that was all part of Stark's plan."

Not to mention that if the news they heard were true of Queen Margaery and Lady Cersei being imprisoned by the Faith, Davos had no doubt that Lord Tyrell would abandon the siege of Storm's End and march to King's Landing to demand his daughter's release.

There was already infighting going on in the Lannister-Tyrell alliance and it would be the perfect opportunity to rally the river lords not loyal to the Freys to Stannis's cause and mayhaps some storm lords and crown lords as well. Davos knew that Stannis was thinking about that as well as he gazed at the map of Westeros.

Their war was no longer about the Iron Throne at the moment though, no matter how much Stannis complained about Brynden Stark and his refusal to bend the knee. And Davos was certain that Stannis knew that as well if his glances at the Wall on the map were anything to go by.

"So how will you respond, Your Grace?" Davos asked at last, breaking the silence in the room.

King Stannis picked up the piece that was shaped like a flaming heart with the crowned stag enclosed in it, gazing at it for a moment before placing it in the riverlands.

* * *

The wedding ceremony for Sansa and Lord Harrold Arryn were in full swing, yet Catelyn wasn't focused on them at the moment as she made her way to the Sky Cells with Brienne trailing behind her. Two Arryn guards stood outside her destination, wearing silver mail armor and sky-blue cloaks. "My lady," they bowed when Catelyn stopped in front of them.

"Open it," she commanded, and they did as commanded before stepping to the side, swinging the door open, revealing the man she had once saw as her own brother.

Petyr's eyes shot up when he heard her voice. "Cat," he muttered, struggling to stand up.

He didn't look at all like the man she had seen a week ago. She supposed the Sky Cells could do that a person, remembering when her sister had thrown Tyrion Lannister into one of the cells.

"Do not call me that," she snapped, causing Petyr to flinch back at her tone. "You lost that right when you betrayed my husband and family to the Lannisters."

She had the Hound to thank for that when he had sworn his sword to Brynden's cause, informing them when questioned that it was Petyr who had betrayed Ned that day, drawing a dagger at his neck. When she had told Lord Royce and the other lords it had given them even more incentive to throw Petyr in the Sky Cells without a trial or confession. They would leave his fate and judgment to her son when they returned to Winterfell.

"Lies," Petyr tried to defend himself. "I've loved you since I was a boy, I would never betray you."

"Then why are you still here serving the Lannisters while my husband is dead? You were always clever, but nothing you say will save you now. My son, the King in the North will decide your fate when we return to Winterfell." She ought to have him thrown through the moon door, but that would be too quick of a death for him. He deserved to suffer longer for his treachery and betrayal.

"I can help your son defeat his enemies. He may be a skilled warrior and commander like his brother, but I doubt he knows how to play the game. You can trust me."

Catelyn was suddenly reminded of the dagger that had been used by the catspaw on the attempt of Bran's life. She remembered her blind trust in Petyr when he had told her that the dagger belonged to Tyrion Lannister, which had led up to the war against her family.

She could still also remember Tyrion vehemently denying the dagger was his during their journey to the Eyrie.

"You lied to me, betrayed my trust and that of my husband's. I would be a fool to believe in you again." She spun around and was about to leave the cell when the next few words that came out of Petyr's mouth stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Sansa also had a role with your husband's arrest. Thought you should know."

Lies, Catelyn thought, clutching her dress, her fingers digging into the skirt of her dress. Without another word, Catelyn left the cell, with Brienne trailing behind her as she heard Petyr call out her name and the door to his cell slam shut.

Petyr was lying, Catelyn told herself, refusing to believe that Sansa had played a part with Ned's death. He was just trying to drive a wedge between her family in his hopes that he would be spared from death. There was just no way that Sansa would betray Ned to the Lannisters.

Unless it was for Joffrey, Catelyn thought, remembering how enamored Sansa was with the prince at Winterfell.

After the wedding Catelyn would ask Sansa herself, and pray that what Petyr had told her was all just a lie.

* * *

Waiting for him in his quarters were the three best fighters Brynden could come up with from both the North and the Free Folk. Only one of them bowed to him as he entered the room.

"You wanted to speak with us, Your Grace?" Smalljon Umber asked.

Without replying, Brynden made his way over to where the three Valyrian steel swords he had claimed from Euron Greyjoy and the Iron Islands were and picked up one of them before turning around, surprising the other occupants in the room.

"The Long Night is coming and the dead come with it. We've all seen it, which is why I've called you three here." Brynden stepped in front of Smalljon, tightening his grip over Brightroar. "Valyrian steel can kill the Others and luckily for us we have three Valyrian steel swords without an owner. As an Umber I figured you would be the most suitable for Brightroar."

"Your Grace, I–" Smalljon started, but Brynden cut him off.

"You've rode with me since the Green Fork and your house has served mine faithfully for generations. You and your house have earned the right to wield this sword."

"What of my father?"

Brynden smiled. "I've already spoken to the Greatjon of the matter. He doesn't mind if it is you since you are the future of your house. Now take it before I decide to give it to someone else."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Smalljon accepted Brightroar gratefully from Brynden. "I swear my house will remember this moment for generations to come."

"When you have the time you should see about getting the name and pommel changed." Brynden suggested. "It is an Umber sword now, not a Lannister one."

Smalljon chuckled. "I will, Your Grace."

Nodding his head in approval, Brynden made his way back over to where the Valyrian swords were and picked up Red Rain before standing in front of the man who had brought his younger sister safely home.

Clegane raised an eyebrow at him as Brynden offered him the sword. "Didn't think you had that much faith in me."

"You're a great fighter and that's what we need right now if we hope to survive the wars to come. You'll need it if you will be fighting by my side." He turned the blade and pointed the pommel to Clegane who immediately wrenched it away from his grasp.

Strapping it to his belt, Clegane nodded and Brynden left to pick up the last sword and made his way over to the final person in the room.

"Our people have been enemies for as long as I can remember until now. I named you to my guard because my brother trusts your father and to bridge the gap between our people. My marriage to one of your own and this sword will hopefully continue to mend the hostility between us. What say you, Toregg, son of Tormund?"

Toregg grinned as he accepted the blade. "I say that I'll use this blade to take down all those ice fuckers until not a single one is left."

Brynden chuckled. "So long as it is used against the enemies of the north that is all that matters to me. You are all free to go now."

Smalljon bowed while Toregg strapped Nightfall to his belt before taking their leave, leaving Brynden alone to his thoughts.

Sighing in relief that it was all over, Brynden made his way back over to his desk before collapsing into his chair, massaging his forehead to clear his thoughts.

There were now five Valyrian steel swords in use in the north, and yet Brynden knew it would not be enough against the Others. He had seen the way they had moved and fought in combat and without their wights, Brynden was certain they would be able to overwhelm them by themselves. He shuddered at the thought of facing an army of them.

That was why he couldn't stay at the Wall any longer. He needed to return to Winterfell, summon his bannermen, and discuss their next move. Jon could hold the Wall until he returned. With the North, Free Folk, and the Night's Watch working together against their common foe, there was no need for Brynden to overstay his welcome.

He had accomplished what he had set out to do at the Wall. He had made a truce with Stannis Baratheon, formed an alliance with the Free Folk, and had seen the Others up close and personal. It was time for him to leave and prepare his people for the coming storm. If the Wall was still here when he returned with more men, Brynden prayed that they would be ready.

Standing up, Brynden made his way over to the door and opened it to speak with the guards outside. "Inform my bannermen to mobilize their men. We march for Winterfell at dawn."

"Your Grace." One of his guards bowed before taking his leave.

He then sent the other guard away when he spotted Val making her way over to him with Shadow trailing behind her. Though she did not show it, Brynden knew that she mourned the loss of her sister's husband and the father of her nephew.

"You should not be wandering about by yourself." Though he did not show it, Brynden was worried for her. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one and though he was not on the best of terms with Mance, he respected him for he knew it was not easy to unite the Free Folk.

Val responded with that damn smile of hers that could turn the heads of any man in the Seven Kingdoms. "I can take care of myself. Besides, I wasn't alone. Your wolf stayed by my side the entire time."

"You still should have had some guards with you. You are my wife and queen. Your safety is of paramount importance to me." He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, taking her scent in that smelled like honey, before pulling away. "You should get some rest. We leave for Winterfell in the morning."

She placed her hand on his arm and slowly ran her fingers up and down his muscle. "We both should. Though I have no intention of going to bed just yet."

Knowing what she was implying, Brynden grinned before looking down at Shadow. "Go to Jon, boy. I'm certain that he could use your company more than me."

Heeding his command, Shadow took off, letting Brynden lose himself to the lust that was building up inside of him. Crashing his lips against Val's, Brynden wrapped his tongue around hers while leading her back into his quarters, kicking the door behind him shut before pawing at Val's clothes, stripping her down while she did the same to him.

Now naked as the day they were born, Brynden lifted Val off the ground, with her wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her over to the bed. He then gently set her on the bed before thrusting himself inside of her, causing Val to cry out his name, digging her nails into his skin. Grunting in pain and pleasure, Brynden continued to ravage her, losing himself to the pleasure, and forgetting all about his duties as a king and the threat beyond the Wall.

It didn't take long for him to finally spill his seed inside of her, with the both of them falling to sleep shortly after the deed was done.

The next morning, Brynden made his over to where Jon was standing while his men mounted their horses, getting ready for the journey back to Winterfell. The banners of the northern houses flapped proudly against the wind. Val was already at the front of the column, with Shadow prowling about, scaring some of the horses. Jon turned to face him, smiling as he approached.

"I'm sorry to see you go, Your Grace." Leave it to Jon to act all formal while they were in the presence of others. Well two could play that game.

"As am I, Lord Commander, but my place is at Winterfell, and it is time that I went home." There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

The words were left unspoken, but Jon understood what he meant. "Tell the others that I miss them and that I hope to see them all again soon."

Brynden smirked. "No doubt in my mind that Arya misses you more."

Jon chuckled. "Aye, I don't doubt that."

A slight snow had begun to fall but it was nothing they weren't already used to. Not for the first time, Brynden wished that Jon could come with him to help prepare their people for the coming storm, but he was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now, his place was here at the Wall, just as Brynden's was at Winterfell as the King in the North.

"I swear to you that I will return with more men. Until then, don't knock the Wall down while I am away."

Jon grinned. "The Wall will still be standing when you return."

Brynden then pulled Jon in for a hug, surprising Jon before he returned it and patted him on the back. "Stay safe, brother."

"You too," Jon muttered.

They then pulled away from each other and Brynden nodded his head before making his way down to the head of the column. He spotted several of the brothers of the Night's Watch looking at his men in awe. There was no doubt in his mind that they were not used to seeing this many men at Eastwatch, especially a king's army.

The members of his new guard bowed their heads to Brynden in respect as he made his way past them. To show a sign of unity between the North and the Free Folk, Brynden had named several new warriors from the Free Folk to his battle guard. Toregg, the eldest son of Tormund was an obvious choice, along with Sigorn, the new head of House Thenn. Brynden planned to name Sigorn the new Lord of the Dreadfort when they returned to Winterfell.

One of his squires came over to him with the reigns of his horse and Brynden took them before mounting up. Though he was leaving Jon behind, Brynden was looking forward to see his family again after what he had seen beyond the Wall. It had been too long since he had seen all of his family together. Though they were missing Robb and Father, Brynden was grateful that they still had each other after everything they had been through.

Urging his horse forward, Brynden led the column of horse; knights, lancers, freeriders, and mounted bowmen, down the path to Winterfell. Shadow ran ahead of him, eager to see the rest of his littermates at Winterfell.

"How do you plan on dealing with them?" Val asked, as they made some distance from Eastwatch.

"I don't know yet." Brynden sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. "One thing I know for certain is that the Wall is our first line of defense against the Others. Even with the knights of the Vale and Stannis our numbers will not be enough to stop them."

Though Brynden hated to admit it, Jon was right. They couldn't possibly hope to stop the Others by themselves. Even with the combined might of the north, Free Folk, and the Vale, Brynden doubted their odds of success against the Others. They needed all of Westeros behind them if they hoped to stand a chance of beating them.

It would be a difficult task to rally the south against their common foe, and even then Brynden loathed the thought of fighting alongside the Lannisters, but he would do whatever it took to protect the north against the coming storm. Whatever it took, Brynden vowed.

* * *

 **I know a lot of you have been looking forward to continuing Brynden Stark's journey and hopefully I did not disappoint with this chapter.  
**

 **And the Umbers get their own Valyrian steel sword. Still trying to come up with a name for it instead of Brightroar, and I'm leaning towards Giantsbane but am having second thoughts about it. Let me know what you guys think and if you have any suggestions, let me know.**

 **The next chapter will be next week on Sunday.  
**

 **Next Chapter: Wildlings, Northmen, Knights of the Vale**


	25. Wildlings, Northmen, Knights of the Vale

**We're nearing the end of the Dance with Dragons and heading into The Winds of Winter, only two chapters left. There will also be an appendix coming soon probably after the end of this book or somewhere in between the Winds of Winter segment as there will be too many characters for me to keep up with as new factions begin to enter the war.  
**

* * *

The Arryn fleet stole into White Harbor on the evening tide, their sails rippling with every gust of wind.

Twenty thousand men sailed with Catelyn; all sworn to the six lords who had helped her achieve the alliance between the Eyrie and Winterfell. The rest of the knights of the Vale had been left behind to defend their lands should the Iron Throne retaliate. If only they had sailed with her the first time things would be different and Robb might still be alive, but they were not to blame, it was Lysa's fault, hers and Petyr's. She should never have trusted them, but there was nothing she could do about it now, the past was in the past. All that mattered to her now was seeing all of her children again, together at Winterfell where they belonged.

Glancing over at Sansa who stood with her new husband, Catelyn remembered the conversation she had with her after the wedding, with Sansa confessing to going to the queen after Ned had told her that she was going back to Winterfell with Arya. She couldn't believe it, but then she remembered that it was Petyr who had told her and she knew that she would be playing right into his hands if she let her anger get the better of her.

For now Catelyn tried not to think about it as she knew that soon Petyr's head would be on a spike when Brynden learned that they had the man who had betrayed Ned in their custody. Sansa need not suffer any more than she had and Catelyn knew that Brynden would forgive her just as she had.

The past was in the past, Catelyn repeated to herself. All that mattered now was the future.

As they sailed into the harbor, the walls of whitewashed stone rose before them, on the eastern shore where the White Knife plunged into the firth. The direwolf of House Stark and the merman of House Manderly was everywhere in evidence, flying from the towers of the New Castle, above the Seal Gate, and along the city walls.

Lord Manderly had indeed been busy since she had last seen him, Catelyn noted, as she spotted the jetty walls concealing the inner harbor. The outer harbor was larger, but the inner harbor offered better anchorage, sheltered by the city wall on one side and the looming mass of the Wolf's Den on another, and now by the jetty wall as well. A score of ships could be concealed behind those walls, waiting only a command to put to sea. The harbor was indeed well defended should the south ever decide to invade the north.

Lord Manderly and a retinue of guards awaited them as they docked at the port. Lord Harrold was the first to disembark, along with Sansa, with Catelyn and the other lords trailing behind her.

"Welcome, my lords, my ladies. We have been expecting you." Lord Manderly greeted, bowing his head.

"Where is the king? I thought he would be the one to greet us, seeing as he did summon us for our men." Harrold asked, causing Lord Manderly to frown.

"The king is currently riding for Winterfell from Eastwatch after rescuing the wildlings at Hardhome."

"Wildling scum." Catelyn heard Lord Royce mutter behind her.

Catelyn knew their new allies would disagree with her son's alliance with the wildlings, just as she knew that many northern lords still disagreed with his decision. Her son was walking on thin ice with this new alliance, and she blamed Stannis Baratheon and Jon Snow for putting her son in this situation.

It was moments like these that Catelyn wished her son had never married the wildling girl. It would at least leave him in a far better position than dealing with a potential rebellion from his bannermen. All it would take was a single spark to destroy the alliance, and her son's marriage to the wildling girl would be all for nothing.

"So we are to ride for Winterfell then I take it?" Harrold asked.

"Aye, though you are not the only ones. The king is summoning all of his bannermen to Winterfell, which means that I will also be accompanying you."

All of them? Catelyn was just as surprised as the other lords when she heard the words come out of Lord Manderly's mouth. Her son couldn't possibly preparing for another war, could he, or was it something else?

"He doesn't mean to march south does he?" Lord Royce asked, voicing all of their thoughts.

Lord Manderly shook his head. "Not south, north."

"North," Lord Royce scoffed. "What other enemy is out there for him to deal with now that he is fraternizing with wildlings?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you. Even I'm still having a hard time believing it, even with the men and lords who had accompanied the king swearing to have seen them at Hardhome."

"Them?" Lord Harrold parroted. "What do you mean?"

"The Others."

The lords and Harrold immediately guffawed at Lord Manderly's reply. Even Catelyn found it hard to believe, though she knew that her son was no liar and wouldn't make something up like the Others existence.

"You can't be serious. The Others are only a story, a tale to make children shiver. Your king must be mad if he would have us believe that the Others are real." Lord Royce said.

"Believe me, I wish he was, but the other lords that were with him also saw them with their own eyes. I know these men and they would never lie about something like this." Lord Manderly defended.

That must be the reason why Brynden made the alliance with the wildlings, Catelyn realized. Brynden trusted Jon Snow, just as much as Lord Manderly trusted the men who supported his claim and that would be more than enough of a reason for her son to believe their existence. She shuddered at the thought of the Others being real though, remembering the tales Old Nan used to tell her children at night.

If they were real what chance did they have at beating them? She prayed that her son had a plan to defeat them.

The other lords however were still skeptical of the Others existence. "I'll believe it when I see it," Lord Harrold declared.

"Come my lords, my ladies. We've lingered here for far too long for my liking. You and your men should rest for a bit before we ride for Winterfell. Then we can hear from the king himself of what he saw at Hardhome."

Lord Manderly turned around and led their group to New Castle. Marble mermaids lit the way as they climbed the Castle Stair to New Castle. Catelyn could hear Lord Royce scoffing and muttering about northern fools, knowing that he found the existence of the Others ludicrous. Even Catelyn still had a hard time believing it, but she knew her son would never call all the northern lords to Winterfell unless the threat to the north was serious.

* * *

Ser Kevan Lannister had arrived to the capital within a fortnight after receiving a raven from Pycelle, accepting the position of Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm when he had learned of his niece's imprisonment by the High Sparrow. Now he found himself sitting on the small council, listening to the dire news of the north.

"Lady Sansa Stark has wed Lord Harrold Arryn, my lord. They now sail for White Harbor with an army, according to my spies." Qyburn informed them.

Winterfell and the Eyrie, bound together by marriage. Should the Demon of the North turn his attention south, Kevan feared that another devastating war like the War of the Five Kings would erupt across Westeros. Cersei was right, they should never have sent the Stark girl back to her family, but all Tywin wanted was his son back and he could not blame him for that. Along with the wildlings the Blackwolf could muster a force even greater than the one Robb Stark had during the war.

Yet the King in the North had not made a move since securing an alliance with the wildlings and the Eyrie, which caused Kevan to worry. He hated the waiting and not knowing what his enemy was planning.

"And what of Stannis?" Lord Tyrell, the Hand of the King, asked.

"Still on Dragonstone along with the Manderly fleet. Several ships though have been reported sailing north for reasons unknown."

"They have the numbers to launch an attack or to resume the war yet they do nothing." Lord Randyll Tarly voiced his thoughts. "What are Baratheon and Stark up to?"

"I wish I had the answer, my lord." Qyburn bowed his head.

Kevan still found it hard to believe that a man like Stannis Baratheon would form an alliance with Brynden Stark whilst he still called himself King in the North. Something must have happened at the Wall to cause those two men to form an alliance together.

When will these battles end? Kevan was growing too old for this, but he would do his duty for the realm and his house, to ensure that Tywin's legacy would not be brought down by the follies of his children.

"What of the Blackfish?" Kevan asked.

The last he had heard of that man before he had left King's Landing was that the Blackfish was still raiding and plundering in the westerlands, unleashing the fury of the north on their lands. He knew their attacks were nothing more than a distraction but was still grateful that Cersei at least had the sense to send an army to the westerlands to deal with them before her imprisonment.

"The Blackfish has pulled back his men to the Winter Fleet." Qyburn replied.

Mace snorted. "No doubt he decided to fall back when he learned of my men's arrival."

Kevan highly doubted that, knowing that the Blackfish would be more than capable of defeating the Tyrell army with the men he had. It only proved his point that the Blackfish's raids in the westerlands was nothing more than a feint to draw their forces away from the south, but for what purpose he could still not figure out.

"Have our men fall back to Riverrun," he ordered. "They will find no battle in the west."

Lord Tyrell and Tarly looked at him as if he had lost his wits. "The Blackfish raids in your lands and you would have me pull my men back? You would let these barbarians loose in your lands unopposed for what?" Lord Tyrell asked.

"Their attacks are nothing more then a distraction, to draw our forces away from the south. You may underestimate the Blackwolf, my lord, but I will not."

Kevan still remembered the Massacre on the Green Fork and the Whispering Wood. How the Stark boys had managed to fool Tywin and capture Jaime along with lifting the siege of Riverrun. He would not make the same mistake and fall for the Blackwolf's tricks. They had just managed to take control of the south, with only Storm's End and Dragonstone left to take and Kevan would see to it that it would remain that way.

Lord Tarly then nodded in agreement when he realized what Kevan meant. "A boy he may be, the Blackwolf has more cunning than the Young Wolf."

Lord Tyrell frowned. "You believe Brynden Stark means to invade the south? He has no more allies after he abandoned the river lords to secure the north."

"He has the wildlings and the knights of the Vale at his side. Their numbers are more than enough to overwhelm our forces if we spread ourselves thin." Kevan pointed out.

Even a small force with a skilled commander would be able to achieve several victories before they would be able to consolidate their forces. It would also take time to march their armies to wherever the enemy struck with the Tyrell and Tarly armies in the capital to secure Queen Margaery's release from the Faith.

"I doubt Stark has any interest in the Iron Throne unless he means to sit Stannis Baratheon on it." Lord Tyrell grumbled.

No, but he may exact his revenge on the Freys for their part in the Red Wedding. Kevan had no doubt that the Twins would be the first place Brynden Stark would attack should he decide to turn his attention south.

"For now we should keep our attention focused on the north. Lord Redwyne will keep Stannis occupied with the ships he has left, but that does not mean that we should let our guards down." Kevan said.

"Until this farce of a trial with my daughter is dealt with, the Others can deal with them. Let these two kings sit and do nothing while we focus on dealing with the High Sparrow."

"Very well, my lord. This meeting is adjourned for today."

Lord Tyrell grunted and stood up, leaving the chambers with Lord Tarly trailing behind him. Qyburn bowed before taking his leave, leaving Kevan alone to his thoughts.

* * *

The riders poured through the castle gates, both new and old faces Bran recognized from his brother's last stay at Winterfell. They were five thousand strong, and over their heads a dozen icy banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the grey direwolf of Stark.

His brother's sworn swords and companions had a few new additions, Bran noticed, spotting a few wildlings amongst the group. Yet his brother at the head of the column caught Bran's attention, as he stared in awe at his brother's Valyrian steel armor. Even after already seeing it once before it was still a sight to behold.

Beside his brother was his queen and wife, Val, of the Free Folk. The two of them together looked like a true king and queen compared to when King Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell.

Brynden dismounted from his horse and approached Bran while the others continued to pour through the gates. He smiled when he stopped in front of him, with Shadow prowling the area, searching for his littermates. "You've grown a few inches since I last saw you."

Bran wanted to hug his brother, but Brynden was his king now, and not just a brother, so he said only, "Your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

By then the others were dismounting as well, and grooms were coming forward for their mounts.

"Anything of importance happen while I was away?" Brynden asked.

Bran smiled. "You'll never guess who Ser Helman's scouts picked up on the causeway to Moat Cailin."

Brynden raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Bran looked over his shoulder and nodded his head. A stocky man with a clean-shaven appearance approached, now clad in the silvery mail and long grey cloak of the Stark guards. "Your Grace," he bowed.

Brynden studied the man for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. "Harwin? I thought you were dead along with the rest of father's guards."

"Not yet." Harwin grinned.

"Are there others with you?"

Harwin shook his head. "I'm the only one left from your father's guards."

Bran then chose to interrupt the conversation. "His companions said they were here to help you fight in the coming war."

"Companions?" Brynden frowned.

A scarecrow of a man, wearing a ragged black cloak speckled with stars and an iron breastplate dinted by a hundred battles, stepped forward. A thicket of red-gold hair hid most of his face, save for a bald spot above his left ear where his head had been smashed in.

"Dondarrion? You're still alive?" The raspy voice belonging to the Hound spoke up from behind Brynden.

"Clegane? Never thought I would find you here up so far north." The scarecrow that was Beric Dondarrion replied.

"You're the ones Arya spoke of," Brynden realized. "The Brotherhood without banners."

"Aye, we are, Your Grace. As your brother already mentioned, we've come to help in the wars to come. Our swords are yours if you will have us."

"We could use all the men we can get." Brynden smiled.

"Is mother with you?" Bran asked, hoping to see her again.

Brynden shook his head. "She should be arriving soon at White Harbor with Sansa. Lord Manderly will be waiting for their arrival."

"What about Jon?"

"He is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now. His place is at the Wall, fortifying our defenses against our true enemy." Brynden replied.

"Let's just hope they don't decide to assault the Wall while we are here." Smalljon Umber muttered.

"The Wall has held them back for centuries. So long as it is still standing we have nothing to fear." Brynden tried to sound sure of it though Bran noticed that his brother did not at all seem to believe the words he spoke.

"Let's hope you're right."

Once the conversation ended Brynden said to Bran, "Walk with me. We have much to discuss."

Brynden led Bran away from the group as the others began to make their way into the castle. It was still a strange sight for Bran to see wildlings walking beside northerners, but times were changing and Bran knew that Brynden would do anything to protect the north.

"You saw something at the Wall, didn't you?" Bran asked, hoping to find out what was going on. Something must have happened to have caused Brynden to call his bannermen to Winterfell.

Brynden sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "The Others are real. I saw them with my own eyes and even killed one of them. I know I must sound like a madman to you right now."

"That's why you let the wildlings through the Wall." Bran pointed out.

Brynden nodded. "Aye, but we lost Mance and thirty thousand wildlings to the Others. We don't have the numbers to deal with an army like that."

"How do you plan to deal with them?" Bran hoped that his brother at least had a plan to defend the north against the Others instead of relying on the Wall.

"My first priority is protecting my people, which is why I will be having the Winter Fleet ferry those who cannot fight to the Iron Islands. It will take some time, but at least we will be able to have less areas to worry about should the Wall fall."

"An evacuation," Bran's eyes widened.

"It's not perfect but it will mean fewer enemies to swell the ranks of the dead. For now that's the only thing I'm focused on until the Lords of the Vale arrive. I can already foresee how they will look at me when I tell them what I saw at Hardhome." Brynden chuckled.

"But you'll still tell them anyways," Bran muttered.

Brynden smiled. "Aye, because at the end of the day, the only enemy that matters is the one beyond the Wall. If I can convince the Lords of the Vale of the true threat then there is a chance I will be able to convince the other Seven Kingdoms to band together against the white walkers."

"You will," Bran assured him, for both their sakes. He didn't want to know what would happen if his brother failed.

* * *

The war council Brynden had summoned consisted of his bannermen, the Free Folk, the Lords of the Vale, and the few river lords who had returned with the Blackfish. Brynden and his northern lords sat at the head of the high table, with his siblings seated below the raised platform. The Greatjon sat at his left hand, along with Galbart Glover, Lady Mormont, Lord Harrion Karstark, with Val seated to his right, and then his mother, Lord Manderly, Lord Hornwood, and the Northern mountain clans.

Opposite of them were the Vale lords, the so-called Lords Declarant. Lord Harrold Arryn sat at the head of the table, with Lord Royce by his side, and the other five lords arrayed beside them. To the right were the Free Folk, with Tormund as their leader, along with the chieftains who followed him. Then to the left was Brynden Blackfish with Lord Mallister, and Lord Blackwood, the only river lords to have accompanied them north.

Tensions were running high in the Great Hall of Winterfell as Brynden listened to the arguing going back and forth between the Lords of the Vale, the wildlings, and Lords of the North. He should have foreseen this, but he needed them all present to discuss their plans against the coming storm. Several fights had already broken out in the Winter Town, and luckily no one had been killed yet. It was only a matter of time though unless Brynden did something about it.

"You can't expect the Knights of the Vale to side with Wildling invaders." Lord Royce exclaimed, with several other Vale lords nodding in agreement.

"We didn't invade. We were invited." Tormund pointed out.

"Not by me." Lord Royce declared, sitting down, with the arguing resuming once more, causing Brynden to stand up.

"The Free Folk are bound by marriage to the North, just as the Eyrie is to Winterfell." Brynden pointed out, causing many to turn their attention to him. "They are no longer our enemies, my lords. The true enemy lies beyond the Wall, waiting to strike, and if we don't band together we will not survive."

"And how do we know that you aren't just being used by the wildlings?" Lord Harrold, Sansa's husband, asked, standing up. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I find it hard to believe that this army of the dead and Others exist. For all we know you and your lords could be deceived by their sweet words, just like the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"Do you take me for a fool, Lord Arryn?" Brynden growled, his tone as cold as ice, causing the young lord to flinch. "I was fighting the Lannisters, scouring the Iron Islands, and defending the Wall while you were still a green boy. I have faced many enemies on the field, but none of them terrified me as much as the Others did. I fought one of them and barely survived. The lords that are standing beside me can all vouch for me."

He could still remember the screams, the dead blue eyes staring at him, and the way the Other moved as if it was the wind. Were it not for his Valyrian steel armor and Ice, Brynden was certain that he would be dead right now. The very thought of how close he was to death and what he saw at Hardhome caused him to realize just how petty their war in the Seven Kingdoms was.

"You are a fool if you believe that I would be deceived by wildlings." The Greatjon added, standing up, glaring at the young lord. "My family has been fighting their kind for as long as I could remember. We are closer to the Wall than any house here and have clashed against wildling raiders time and again. I would rather split my own belly than be made a fool of by Wildlings, but what I saw at Hardhome is as real as you and me. As much as I hate to admit it, they are our allies now, whether we like it or not."

Brynden nodded to the Greatjon in thanks while he sat back down. He then glanced at Lord Arryn who wisely chose to sit back down as well. He was around Brynden's age, but still inexperienced, though Brynden supposed he would also be like him if he hadn't experienced war and been crowned king. Still, he was grateful at least that Lord Harrold had sworn his swords to his cause, which made him ten times better than his cousin Robert in his eyes.

"I know this new alliance is a lot to take in, my lords. Even I was skeptical of it at first until I was convinced of the importance from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Brynden admitted, causing many of the lords to murmur to each other. "If the brothers of the Night's Watch could set aside their differences with the Free Folk than so could we. That is why I am pleased to announce that Smalljon Umber has agreed to take a wildling woman as his wife."

This caused many lords in the room to shout in disapproval, something Brynden had anticipated. The Greatjon slammed his fist onto the table, causing many to shut up in response.

Brynden was grateful that he had discussed such an idea to the Greatjon and Smalljon Umber first when they were riding for Winterfell. Initially they were opposed to such a match, until Brynden had convinced them the importance of the match. Smalljon had reluctantly agreed to it, as his house was indebted to Brynden for gifting them Brightroar.

Not to mention that it would also help solidify their alliance in ways that not even Brynden's marriage to Val could. For if the Umbers, sworn enemies to the Free Folk since the Wall was built could put aside their differences than so could the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I don't like the thought of taking a wildling as my wife either, my lords, but we all must make sacrifices for the greater good." Smalljon added, standing up.

"And I take it that you would have our sons and daughters also take a wildling as their spouse," Lady Anya Waynwood scoffed.

"No, you are free to wed your children to whomever you see fit." Brynden replied. "A marriage between an Umber and the Free Folk is important however for our alliance."

"So how do you plan on dealing with these Others and their dead?" Lord Royce asked, frowning.

"As part of our alliance the Free Folk have been helping the Night's Watch man the abandoned castles along the Wall. As you all know the Wall hasn't been properly manned for years and the Night's Watch numbers have been dwindling. The Wall is our first line of defense but should it fall the Last Hearth will be one of the first to be hit." Brynden replied.

"Luckily we have giants and mammoths to help out with our defenses," Smalljon Umber grinned, causing the Vale lords to murmur to each other in disbelief.

"Then what is our purpose if you have giants and mammoths?" Lord Harrold asked.

"We can't throw all our strength at our first lines of defense." Brynden replied. "Winterfell is the heart of the north and should be heavily defended. Half of your forces will help augment my own army. The other half will head to Moat Cailin, which will be our last line of defense. Hopefully it will not come to that."

"Half of the giants and mammoths will come to Winterfell," Tormund added.

"If these Others and their wights are as grave of a threat as you say they are should we at least seek out the aid of the other Seven Kingdoms?" Lady Anya asked.

"Stannis Baratheon is on Dragonstone mining the dragonglass and sending them north with the Manderly Fleet. He has also gained the gold of the Iron Bank and is using them to hire sellswords across the narrow sea. As for the Lannisters, you all know how I feel about them, but we need them and their allies the Tyrells and Martells if we hope to survive this war, which is why I plan on using the Kingslayer to negotiate with them."

His response was immediately met with disapproval as the southron lords roared in disagreement.

"The Kingslayer should be executed for his crimes, not pardoned and released!" Lord Blackwood cried out.

"The Lannisters cannot be trusted!" Lord Royce added.

"You may as well bend the knee and swear fealty to the Iron Throne," Lord Harrold scoffed.

Brynden knew exactly how they felt as they continued to voice their disapproval. Hell, he even hated himself for suggesting they ally with the Lannisters as he would sooner trust a wight to fight alongside him than a Lannister. Jon was right though. They would need all of Westeros united under one banner if they hoped to survive.

The Others were on the move though after centuries of having the rest of the Seven Kingdoms believe they were dead and Brynden feared that meant they had a way to pass through the Wall, which had been raised after the Long Night to prevent such an event from happening. Either way, Brynden was not going to let the North or his people suffer because he underestimated the enemy.

Brynden raised his hand, silencing the room. "Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, Arryn, Tully, Tyrell, Martell; it doesn't matter which house you come from, the enemy won't care. To them we are nothing more than a sack of meat to slaughter and add to their army. Sacrifices must be made and if we must lay in bed with our enemies than so be it. We can go back to killing each other once the true enemy is dealt with."

"My lord father was butchered at the Red Wedding and I will never forget that, but what I saw at Hardhome is coming for all of us." Harrion added, balling his hand into a fist. "I don't like the Lannisters any less than any of you as my brothers and father died fighting them, but we need them. We cannot hope to defeat them alone."

"Yesterday's wars don't matter anymore. The only thing that matters now is the living and the dead. So I ask you, my lords, are you with me or not?" Brynden continued.

The room was silent for a moment before Lord Royce stood up. "We were all frustrated with your Lady aunt when she refused to aid your brother during the war, that will not happen again. Our swords are yours, Your Grace."

Lord Harrold stood up, grinning. "So long as I get to test my steel is fine by me. We are kin now and that means something in the Vale. The Vale is with you, Your Grace."

There was no words needed for Tormund and the other chieftains as they simply nodded their heads to Brynden in acknowledgment.

Brynden looked at his uncle who stepped forward. "You needn't ask where my loyalties lie, Your Grace."

Lord Manderly was the last to stand up, representing the lords who did not accompany Brynden to Hardhome. "The north remembers, Your Grace. We are with you until the end."

"Thank you, my lords." Brynden sighed in relief.

He had done it; he had united the Free Folk, the North, and the Knights of the Vale against their common foe. Brynden knew the south would be a challenge to convince and he had an idea to go about doing it. He just hoped that Jon and the Night's Watch were up to the task.

* * *

 **Hopefully you guys enjoyed the way I handled Brynden convincing the Vale lords, and northmen to band together against the Others. To be honest, I think I handled it better than the show did as I included their reactions of Brynden informing them about the threat beyond the Wall instead of just skipping over it.**

 **And the Brotherhood without Banners join Brynden Stark in the north. With Catelyn still alive there is no Lady Stoneheart, and I figured that now was the perfect time for Beric to join Brynden in the war against the Others.**

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Justice of the North**


	26. Justice of the North

Jaime couldn't believe his luck. As he sat once more in a cell of Winterfell, waiting for his execution. He was no fool to believe that he was going to be walking out of here alive after the Red Wedding. Stark would want his head for what had happened to his brother, the Young Wolf, even though he had nothing to do with his death. Shivering in the cold, Jaime listened to the groans of his cellmate, Littlefinger. Clearly the north did not agree with either of them and was letting them suffer for their crimes.

When he had arrived and been thrown into his cell, Jaime was surprised to say the least when Littlefinger was also thrown in with him. He had then learned that the young Robert Arryn had passed away, succeeded by Harrold Arryn, a distant kin of Jon Arryn, who had then wed Sansa Stark, binding the Eyrie with Winterfell.

Cersei would not like that for Stark now possessed a force that could put an end to Lannister rule should he turn his attention south. And yet he had not retaliated for Jaime knew when Stark would after he took his head.

He then heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the damp walls and as the torch from his captors lit the dungeon, Jaime found himself staring at Brynden Stark.

The boy smirked when Jaime's eyes met his. "Here we are again, Kingslayer."

"Stark," Jaime growled. "Have you come for my head?"

Brynden Stark gritted his teeth. "Not today, Kingslayer. As much as I would love to take your head we need you alive."

Jaime thought he was dreaming when he heard that he was going to live. Of all the outcomes he predicted his meeting with Brynden Stark would go, this was not one of them. "Why?" He couldn't help but ask.

"There are things out there that will destroy us all if we don't band together. Even if many of my bannermen do not agree with my decision I have no choice but to keep you alive."

What did he mean by that? He was suddenly reminded of his conversation with the Onion Knight before he was shipped off to the north. The wildlings were not the true threat beyond the Wall, he recalled the Onion Knight telling him.

"What of me, Your Grace? Surely I could be of some use to you." Littlefinger interrupted, shivering from the cold.

"Silence worm. Your execution will come soon enough." Stark snapped. "Clegane told me of how you betrayed my father when he tried to claim the Iron Throne for Stannis Baratheon. There is no escape from death for you. The north remembers and soon justice will be served."

"Lies. I tried to help him, begged him to serve as Protector of the Realm, but he refused to listen."

"Your way with words may have served you in the south, but they will not help you in the north. Enjoy your time in the living while you can." Stark then turned his attention over to the gaoler. "Silence him for me."

The gaoler stepped forward, fumbling with his keys before finding the right one and unlocking it. Jaime then heard Littlefinger's cries of resistance before he was knocked out.

"And why is it that you need me alive?" Jaime asked, still wary around the man who would gladly take his head without any hesitation. He would not show fear or weakness in front of the boy, but that did not mean that he was not cautious around him.

Jaime still remembered the last time they were together in a cell and Stark took his sword hand. He had to give the boy credit though for not taking his head immediately upon seeing him instead of speaking with him. They were enemies still and nothing was going to change that.

"To help me negotiate an alliance with the Lannisters," Stark replied, pulling up a stool and sitting down in front of Jaime's cell. "I know that I have a force that rivals yours now with the Eyrie and the Free Folk, but even then I doubt they will be enough to stop them."

Again with this mysterious threat beyond the Wall nonsense. Yet what Stark spoke was true to Jaime. After the War of the Five Kings, the Lannisters had lost thousands of soldiers to the Starks and Baratheons, but with the Tyrells, Freys, and Martells as their allies they could still field an army to hold the kingdoms that were still sworn to the Iron Throne.

"You know the only way to make peace with us is to either bend the knee or take the black," Jaime grinned, enjoying the fact that Stark needed him alive to negotiate with the Iron Throne.

"That will never happen," Stark growled, balling his hands into fists. "The north remembers and we will never submit to a southron king ever again."

"Then you may as well take my head here and now, Stark," Jaime snapped. "My family will never listen to what you have to offer so long as you call yourself king."

"That will soon change." Stark frowned. "I know words will not help me in the south, which is why I will be showing them and you of what is truly out there."

"And what exactly is out there? All of the wildlings are behind the Wall now if I remember correctly." Jaime growled. "There's nothing else out there now unless you would have me believe that Snarks and Grumkins are real."

Stark narrowed his eyes at him. "If you would rather lose your head here and now, tell me Kingslayer and I will gladly take it. I don't have to make an alliance with you, as you well know who supports me, but the cold winds are rising beyond the Wall and soon the Long Night will be upon us."

Jaime snorted in disbelief, almost unable to believe what he had just heard. "The Long Night, that's what this is all about? You are truly mad if you believe that the Others are real."

"Believe me, I wish I was as well, but they are out there and waiting to strike. The longer we all continue to squabble amongst ourselves the stronger our enemy will continue to grow. Why else do you think I made an alliance with the Free Folk and Stannis Baratheon?"

Jaime couldn't help but ponder about that, as he knew what kind of a man Stannis Baratheon was and still found it hard to believe at times that he had made an alliance with Brynden Stark, the King in the North.

"If this enemy you speak of does exist what will you do afterwards when they are dealt with?" Jaime asked, still not believing in all of this nonsense about the Others. Yet his head was still not on a spike so for now he would humor the Stark boy.

Stark smirked. "I think we both know the answer to that." He then stood up, glancing over at Littlefinger's cell before turning his attention back to Jaime. "Think about what I have said and when the Lord Commander returns from his ranging you will see for yourself what is out there. Until then, enjoy your cell, Kingslayer."

Stark then turned and left, leaving Jaime alone once more in the darkness of his cell as the flames from the torch were extinguished.

* * *

It was moments like these that made Bran realize how much he missed his family being together. As he dined in the Great Hall with his siblings, mother, uncle Brynden, Val, and little Lyanna. Even Rickon was smiling and laughing again while their wolves played with each other and gnawed at their bones. The only one missing was Jon but he was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now and he had his own duties to attend to at the Wall. He just hoped that he would be able to come down and visit them like how uncle Benjen used to.

"Dragons?" Brynden snorted in disbelief while he held little Lyanna in his lap, watching in amusement as she tried to reach over to pet Shadow. "An unlikely tale, uncle."

"I am only the messenger, nephew. Tales of the dragon queen have spread from the east and Lord Manderly thought you should know about her and her dragons."

The mention of dragons piqued Bran's interest though Brynden didn't seem at all interested with the matter. The only thing his brother seemed to be focused on nowadays was the Wall and the Others. Everything else was pushed away which was why it was so rare for Bran to see Brynden dining with the rest of them as he would usually distance himself from them or spend time holding war councils with his bannermen.

"Even if the tales are true she's a continent away from us and under siege. She is nothing more than another doomed pretender like Stannis. Why should I worry about this woman?"

"Because if this enemy you speak of is real then we will need her dragons in the wars to come as fire kills their soldiers as I recall you telling me."

"She's a Targaryen, the daughter of the Mad King who burned grandfather alive and strangled uncle Brandon to death." Brynden snapped, gritting his teeth. "I am already at my limit with sparing the Kingslayer and forming a truce with the Lannisters but the Targaryens are an entirely different matter. The north remembers, uncle, and if you recall, you helped bring down the dynasty that she is trying to restore."

"Whatever happened to yesterday's wars not mattering anymore?" Val interrupted, frowning. "It's like you said, the Others don't care what house you kneelers come from. How is this any different?"

"Besides, I'm certain that she will be grateful and listen to you if you defeat her enemies and lift the siege." Uncle Brynden added.

Bran kept his mouth shut while he listened but he could tell that his brother was not at all pleased with the idea of forming an alliance with a Targaryen. He understood how he felt though since their father went to war against her family after her brother, Prince Rhaegar kidnapped their aunt Lyanna and raped her. There was just too much bad blood between their two houses but if Brynden could push aside his enmities with House Lannister than perhaps he could do the same with the Targaryens.

Brynden ran his hand through his hair before sighing. "Even if I wanted to she's half a world away and there's still the matter with moving those who cannot fight to safety. My place is here in the north, not off chasing some fairy tale and praying that I'm not burned alive when I meet her."

"You place too much burden on yourself," his mother said. "You are not the only Stark in Winterfell and there are others who can help oversee the evacuation."

"I would have thought you would want me to stay," Brynden said in a surprised tone.

"I would want nothing more than for you to be safe, ruling Winterfell and raising your children, and for your siblings to grow up and live happily, but I know now that will not come to pass if this enemy you speak of is out there and coming for us all. Only you, the King in the North and Lord of Winterfell will be able to convince this dragon queen to fight alongside the north."

Brynden was silent for a moment and Bran wondered what was going through his brother's mind. He was grateful that he wasn't in his brother's position as he didn't know how would be able to bear the kinds of responsibilities that Brynden dealt with. If his brother did decide to leave though, Bran knew he would rule in his place as the Stark in Winterfell until he returned.

"It will take more than just mere words to sway her," Brynden said at last. "If Jon is successful with his ranging then maybe I will consider going. For now though I must deal with Littlefinger. His time has come."

"He's the one who betrayed father, isn't he?" Arya interrupted.

"Aye and Clegane can attest to that. He was there in the throne room that day when Littlefinger betrayed him and drew his dagger on him. You all don't need to come see his execution if you don't want to."

"We will go," Arya declared.

"Arya," mother scolded while Brynden chuckled.

"I will as well," Bran added, remembering his father's words the day he saw his father take the head of a deserter of the Night's Watch.

"The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." His father's words echoed in his mind. "If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then the perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

Brynden nodded in understanding. "So be it."

It may be Brynden swinging the sword but Bran had as much right as he did to witness the man who betrayed their father pay for his crimes.

* * *

Castle Black had been too quiet for Melisandre's liking ever since King Stannis and the false king had left, taking their armies with them, leaving only a token force behind to protect Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen, and to help man the Wall. She knew it was only a matter of time before their true enemy descended on the Wall, but for now all she could do was look into her flames and pray that another dawn would come for them.

Two ravens had arrived from Winterfell within a fortnight and it did not take long for rumors to spread amongst the crows of another ranging beyond the Wall. One of the news that had reached the Wall she had already foreseen, but the other one had not been shown to her in the flames. It would seem that even the false king could surprise her with his words and actions.

To capture even one of these creatures that served the one whose name may not be spoken was unheard of, and thus it was no surprise to Melisandre when Jon Snow had summoned her with Devan Seaworth coming to bear the news to her.

"The Lord Commander wishes to see you, my lady," the boy said.

"Then we had best not keep him waiting," Melisandre smiled, causing the boy to blush. The boy was half in love with her, she knew. He fears me, he wants me, and he worships me.

All the same, Devan was not pleased to be here. The lad had taken great pride in serving as a king's squire, and it had wounded him when Stannis commanded him to remain at Castle Black. Like any boy his age, his head was full of dreams of glory; no doubt he had been picturing the prowess he would display at Dragonstone. Though he likely believed he was left behind because of some failure on his part, or of his father, in truth, he was here because Melisandre had asked for him.

Lord Davos would not thank her for it, no more than the boy himself, but Seaworth had suffered enough grief after the loss of his four eldest sons in the battle on the Blackwater.

Making her way out of the room, Melisandre made her way to the armory, where Snow chose to dwell. Her guards escorted her there even though there was no need for it.

Entering Snow's quarters, Melisandre spotted his huge white direwolf curled up by the brazier. It opened its eyes for a moment when it heard her enter before closing them.

Snow sat at his desk with two scrolls curled up with the direwolf visible on them. "I take it you know why you are here, my lady?" He said at last.

"I do. Your brother wants you to go beyond the Wall again." She replied, knowing where this conversation was going.

"The last place we saw the Others and their wights was at Hardhome. I was hoping you might be able to see where they are currently at. I do not want to be ambushed by them again."

"You and your brother may have saved some of the wildlings at Hardhome, but it will make no difference in the end if we are not ready for them." She told him.

"That is why I want you to search for them. My brother is right. The southron lords will need proof they exist."

If only Snow knew how right he was. She had been around the nobles long enough to realize sometimes it took more than just words to convince them of something. Stannis believed the threat beyond the Wall existed for he had seen them in the flames. Just like how he had slowly come to accept her when he had seen her powers for himself.

"Then I will look for them, but the task ahead of you will be dangerous. For they are not the only ones you should be worrying about."

Snow frowned in response. "Daggers in the dark, I remember. I am well aware that my brothers are not pleased with our new alliance with the Free Folk. They dare not lift a finger though so long as my brother rules the north."

"You are a fool to believe that will stop them. All it takes is one false move and they will strike."

"Thank you for your warning, my lady. If that is all you are dismissed."

Melisandre sighed in disappointment, knowing that it was futile to continue. He was just the same as Stannis Baratheon was, back in the beginning. Not to mention that he was the complete opposite of his brother. She still remembered how the false king had looked at her back then but he had never paid her a visit while they were together.

She then took her leave, heading back to her chambers to begin looking into the flames for the servants of darkness.

* * *

Not for the first time since returning to Winterfell, Catelyn found herself in the crypts, gazing at Ned's statue, wishing that he were still here. On the opposite side was Robb, the first King in the North since Torrhen Stark bent the knee centuries ago to Aegon the Conqueror. It still pained her to know that Robb was gone, her firstborn, but at least she hadn't lost all of her children. She had Brynden to thank for that.

Her thoughts and worries then went over to her second son. Her Brynden was in the same position that Ned was, thrust to rule in Robb's place, always feeling like he was living in the shadow of his dead brother. She wanted to comfort him, lessen the burden he carried, but her Brynden had distanced himself from her and the rest of the family as of late, holding war councils or throwing himself into the training yard. Even uncle Brynden spoke of how rarely her son had slept after returning from Hardhome.

"He rarely sleeps, Cat," uncle Brynden had told her during one of the few moments they were together. "The only company he keeps with now are his bannermen or his wolf. Not even his queen graces his presence these days."

That had caused Catelyn to seek out Val while wondering how different the wildlings were to the northerners. It was then that she had learned that her good daughter was with child. "He does not need anymore distractions," Val had told her when she had sought her out. "When he needs me he will come and I will be waiting for him."

That had caused Catelyn to realize that Val was truly not like the other ladies of Westeros she was used to being around. She remembered Jeyne, Robb's wife, and how worried she had been for him about the pressure he was under as a king. A woman of the Free Folk indeed, Catelyn noted.

The sound of footsteps echoing off the walls caused her to turn her attention away from Ned's statue, and smiled when she saw that it was Brynden, who was surprised to see her down there. "I thought you would come here."

"I come here sometimes to think or to be alone. I should have known that you would also come down here." Brynden smiled before looking over at Robb's statue then to Ned's. "I miss them," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"I know. We all do," Catelyn told him.

She took that moment to take in her son's appearance. For a moment she thought she was looking at Ned, as he had been when she had come to Winterfell after Robert's Rebellion. Of all the sons she had born Ned, Brynden was the only one who took after him. It pained her when she realized that she had hoped she was speaking to Ned and not to Brynden in a moment of weakness.

"Sometimes I wonder if father would be proud of the man that I have become or ashamed," Brynden muttered, looking up at Ned's statue.

"He would be proud of you along with everything you and Robb have achieved." Catelyn assured him.

"Everything I did and will do have always been for the north and our house," Brynden said, and for a moment Catelyn wondered if he was speaking to her or Ned as he gazed at his statue. The look on his face then hardened and he turned his attention to her. "I do not want you or the others to be at Winterfell when the fighting begins."

"Do you truly believe that the Wall will fall?" The Wall had been standing for centuries and had kept the wildlings out until they were let in.

Brynden looked over at Robb's statue, frowning. "Everything falls eventually."

"You would have us wait out the war on the Iron Islands," Catelyn could not help but voice her displeasure at having to stay on the lands that once belonged to the Ironborn.

"You would rather stay here? Believe me, you would not." Brynden shook his head.

"There is always the Vale," she pointed out.

"Where you will be put in even more danger should the mountain clans decide to grow bold," Brynden countered. "Lord Royce has told me that some of them already have and are even carrying steel. No, the Iron Islands will be the safest place right now."

"And what if the Lannisters decide to retaliate?"

"We broke their fleet at Dragonstone. The only manpower the Lannisters have now are from Highgarden and even then I doubt that Lord Tyrell will stir while his daughter awaits her trial."

Catelyn sighed, knowing there was no point to argue anymore when she realized her son had made up his mind about where they would be going. "I just hope that you know what you are doing."

"So do I," Brynden muttered, turning around. "The worm you once called your brother will be dying today by the way. I trust that you have said your farewell?"

"I have nothing more to say to him." She would be able to rest easily now, knowing that the man who had betrayed Ned would soon be gone from this world. To think that she had placed Ned's fate in his hands caused her to curse herself for believing that the boy she had grown up would never betray her trust.

She could still remember when she had captured Tyrion Lannister, and how he had continued to deny her accusations that he was the one who sent the catspaw after Bran. Mayhaps he was not lying after all and that she and Ned were truly misled by someone she thought she could count on. What a fool she had been.

"Then I will take my leave," Brynden nodded before starting to walk away, but stopped when she called out to him.

"I know it is not my place, but I thought that you should know that your wife is with child," Catelyn told him. She knew that Val would never seek him out, but hopefully at least he would come to her and she would be able to do what she could not for her son.

"I know," Brynden chuckled. "Maester Tybald informed me of the news. Sometimes I forget that she is a woman of the Free Folk and that she is not at all like you or Sansa."

Catelyn smiled. "You should go to her."

"I will," he promised before taking his leave, leaving Catelyn alone once more with Ned and Robb.

If only they could see now how much Brynden had grown. Looking once more at their statues, she said her farewell to her love and son before making her way out of the crypt. Once outside, she noticed that the courtyard had been cleared away for the execution. There would be no hanging or headsman. Brynden would be the one to swing the sword, just like his father and Robb before him.

Many lords and knights had already begun to gather and a light snow had begun to fall over Winterfell. She was used to this kind of snow by now but soon the weather would be harsher once winter came. She spotted the rest of her family and made her way over to them. Their wolves could be seen prowling about, stalking the yard while causing some of the men to grow nervous around them.

Brynden soon arrived, dressed for battle, clad in his Valyrian steel armor, with his surcoat attached to it. Snow continued to fall around them as Hallis Mollen and his guards led Petyr through the press, hands still bound. She noted that several of the men from the Vale sneered and spat at the ground when Petyr passed by them. The northerners merely glared at him as he passed by them.

"You are making a mistake," Petyr cried out, struggling against his captors. "I did not betray your father, the Hound lies."

"I told you before, your words will not work on me. Now kneel, worm. Or must I have them force your head onto the block?"

"Then I demand a trial by combat. I deserve that much at least!"

"No," Brynden scowled, motioning to the guards, and they forced Petyr to kneel, holding him down. "My father was never given the right when he was executed so neither should you."

His page, a young wildling, brought forth the sword, and Brynden unsheathed Ice.

"Petyr Baelish, Lord of Harrenhal," Brynden raised Ice into the air. "Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of treason. In my own name I condemn you. With my own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?"

Before Petyr could reply, Ice crashed down, taking off his head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as the head bounced and rolled across the yard. The guards threw the headless body to the side as Brynden sheathed Ice before making his way over to Val. No words were spoken when Brynden stopped in front of his queen and they made their way back inside.

It's done, Catelyn thought, glancing one more time at Petyr's corpse before following the others back inside.

* * *

 **And so the Mockingbird falls. Sorry if you guys were looking forward to a more gruesome death for him, but Brynden is a Stark and this is how he executes his enemies and traitors.**

 **Not my best chapter but a few sections of this chapter had undergone some rewrites even though I'm still not satisfied with how it turned out. This chapter is just basically setting stuff up for the Winds of Winter anyways.  
**

 **The next chapter might be delayed by the way though hopefully I will be able to finish it before the end of next week.**

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Beneath the Gold, the Bitter Steel**


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